


It Takes Two

by Letzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mention of Child Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling incest (not main pairing), Talk of Suicide, Underage Sex, graphic depiction of murder, mention of animal cruelty, not wincest either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8326888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letzi/pseuds/Letzi
Summary: Castiel has always felt different. And he’s always loved Dean. Together, they learn, they grow, they kill. It was bound to end badly…





	1. Part 0: Death

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my entry for the 2016 DCBB
> 
> Please, read the tags! Everything you need to know about the fic is there. If it appears that I forgot to tag something, please let me know! 
> 
> This fic is very, very dark. The idea first came to me when I was at my therapists, because she has books about the psychology of killers. Not that she kills people for fun, of course. She just testifies at court sometimes. But I found it was an interesting subject! So, there you go. Obviously, I do not endorse animal cruelty, murder, or any kind of fucked up things I wrote about in there that the characters enjoy. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this little piece, nonetheless. 
> 
> I want to thank Lisa, my beta, who actually cried live in my ear when she read the ending, and subsequently put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. You're always working so hard for me. You ought to take a good, long rest!! Thank you so much!!
> 
> And my artist, stephmendes, who did an AMAZING job!! You can find the art master post [ here! ](http://stephmendes.tumblr.com/post/152028613315/to-be-edited-arts-inspired-on-letzis)

##  ** **

##  **Part 0: Death**

 

**It’s curious, how things start.**

For an eternity, you’re nothing. Then you are brought into this world, and things happen. And when things have happened, one day, you’re not here anymore.

It’s a strange feeling, the day you disappear. The moment you know you’ll disappear, for sure. Especially when there’s a special someone in your life. That feeling, Castiel Milton is experiencing it right now, as he looks at Dean. His perfect Dean. His partner in crime. His other half. It’s a strange, calm panic that settles over him, making his whole body shiver with anticipation, fear, and maybe a little bit of excitement.

“Are you ready?”

The whisper leaves his lips, almost involuntarily, but he doesn’t want to startle Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, voice a raw murmur. “I… yeah.”

He stares at Castiel, his bright green eyes full of anxiety, running a hand through his dirty blond hair before he lets out a decisive breath, puts his beer down, and cocks his gun.

“Ready.”

Castiel settles on the bed, and, with a small hesitation, grabs Dean’s bottle of beer, and downs it in one go, putting the bottle back on the nightstand. Dean raises his eyebrows at him, but Castiel ignores him, cocking his own weapon. The sound of it echoes in the small motel room. It sounds final.

It’s dark inside, they didn’t dare turn on the lights. Outside, the moon is high, but its light is hidden under the blue and red lights of the approaching police cars. Castiel suspects there’s a whole department coming after them, the sound of sirens coming closer and closer, making his heart rate shoot up.

Dean lets out a nervous laugh, and folds his legs under him, mirroring Castiel’s position. The bed springs creak ominously. “They really brought out the whole cavalry…”

Castiel smiles at him, reassuring. “They won’t get us. We made a deal, and you promised, remember?”

“I know, Cas. I know.”

With trembling hands, he lifts his gun.

“Let’s do this, then.”

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Castiel doesn’t lose time, he raises his gun, holding the barrel against Dean’s temple. Dean opens his eyes. He’s shaking badly and there are tears in them, threatening to spill.

“How do we know it’ll work? What if I shoot a second before you and you die before you can…” he trails off. “I can’t do this without you…”

“It’ll work.”

Dean huffs. “Pushy bastard.”

They’re both whispering, overwhelmed by the purity of the moment, by what they’re about to experience. Death. Pure. Simple. Or in Castiel’s case, it is. He does not believe in anything. Dean thinks they’re going to Hell. They’re about to find out which of them is right.

Castiel leans over, until their forehead are touching. His other hand, the one not holding the gun, comes to rest on Dean’s neck.

“I love you.”

Dean’s next laugh is close to a sob. He sniffs. “I know.”

The police cars are close. Castiel hears the scratching of the tires on the pavement in the parking lot outside the motel. “It’s time.”

Dean nods, stealing a kiss, soft, simple, chaste. One last kiss. Castiel can feel the taste of tears on his lips.

“See you on the other side,” Castiel breathes.

Dean nods again. Castiel tightens the hold on his gun.

“One…”

The sirens are so loud now, he almost can’t hear his own self. But he goes on.

“Two…”

Men are yelling outside. Dogs are barking. Castiel doesn’t bother trying to understand what they’re saying. He’s focused. On the warmth of Dean’s skin under his hand, on the feeling of Dean’s breath against his lips. On the sound of Dean’s ragged breathing.

“Three.”


	2. Part 1: Fire

##  **Part 1: Fire**

 

**Dean is turning eight today, and Castiel’s a little jealous.**

Dean’s having a big party, and he invited all of their school friends. But they’re nothing. Castiel knows they’re nothing to Dean. _He is_ Dean’s best friend. He has been since he can remember. They’ve been friends since the first time they met when they were four and Dean first moved into the neighborhood. The memory is a little fuzzy now, of course, Castiel was four years old, but he can still picture Dean standing alone on his lawn, watching Castiel and one of his brothers, Gabriel, play together with a look of fierce envy on his face. Thank God Gabriel was here that day. Castiel would never have dared go to a stranger like that to invite him to play. But Gabriel’s always been good at making friends. At first, Castiel was scared that Dean was going to like Gabriel better, but miraculously he chose to be friends with him instead.

And ever since that day, Castiel watches over him, and tries to keep him close. He doesn’t know why, but any time someone gets too close to Dean, he gets that ugly feeling in his guts.

He’s also a bit envious of Dean. Castiel’s mother doesn’t celebrate birthdays like the other parents do. She thinks it’s a day parents should thank God for giving them children. Castiel’s not allowed to throw parties with his friends. Not that he has a lot of those, anyway. Only Dean. Maybe Sam, Dean’s little brother. And that girl Meg from school.

One day, after class, she convinced him to go hide behind the gym and asked if she could touch him. It was okay. But when it was his turn to touch her he didn’t like it. She wasn’t made like him, down there. It was weird. Soft, and a bit squishy, but all hidden inside. He didn’t like it. But she’s been very nice to him ever since, so he thinks they’re friends. Sort of.

He thinks maybe he’d like to touch Dean, to see what it’s like. He knows Dean’s the same as him. They’ve taken baths together, so Castiel saw. It made him curious. But he’s not going to ask, for now. He’s a little scared Dean would say no and would push him away.

He doesn’t want to lose Dean. They’re best friends. They have secrets. Things nobody knows, not even the adults. Not even Sam, or Gabriel, or Michael, Castiel’s biggest brother. Like that time they kidnapped PawPaw, Mrs. Levowski’s cat, and did things to it. Teared out part of its fur, cut his ears, poked it with a pointed stick, the one Mother uses for the fireplace, until the cat stopped moving and the only thing left to do was set it on fire and bury it some place.

It was the funniest day of Castiel’s short life. And Dean had looked so fascinated, and focused, for the first time since they knew each other, Castiel saw another side of Dean. And he liked it. He liked that Dean did everything Castiel told him to, without even asking questions. The fire part was Dean’s own idea, though. But it was pretty, so Castiel let him do it.

Usually, Dean never lets anyone tell him what to do, not even Castiel. But this time… it was different. It made Castiel feel tingly all over. He hopes someday they’ll be able to do something like that again. But they can’t kidnap all the cats, or the neighbors would know something is up, and they don’t want to get caught.

He saw something on TV the other day, about dog abuse and fireworks. He’d like to try that. And there’s a dog near school that Castiel really doesn’t like. He should tell Dean about it.

But not now. Now, Dean’s opening his presents. He got tons of Hot Wheels already. Castiel is glad. That means they’re going to have lots of new toys to play with. He’s at Dean’s so often that Mother sometimes says he’s practically living there. It’s kinda true. Castiel loves it there, at the Winchester’s house. Dean’s mom, Mary, is really nice, and she can cook really well. John, Dean’s father, was a bit scary at first, but sometimes he shows Dean and Castiel how to make things with wood, or how to fix cars, and it’s nice. Sam is too young to play with them, for now, but he’s interesting. He’s only four but can already read, even if it’s only small children books. Dean says he’s super smart, and Castiel has no reason not to believe him.

The party drags on for what feels like forever, but finally the other kids leave, and Castiel is alone with Dean again. Mrs. Winchester makes dinner, they eat some left-overs cake, and put on their pajamas. Once their teeth are brushed, they settle into bed. Mrs. Winchester makes a bed for Castiel, next to Dean’s, but Castiel always climbs in with his friend when she turns off the light. Tonight is no exception.

In the dark, everything feels better. Castiel turns on his side, as close to Dean as he can. He lets himself relax gradually, until he feels he’s almost drifting out to sleep.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice, even though he’s whispering, almost makes Castiel jump.

“What?”

“Did you have fun today?”

Castiel shrugs, then remembers Dean can’t see him. “Yeah. A bit.”

“You didn’t look like you were having fun.”

Squinting to try and see the expression on Dean’s face, Castiel doesn’t answer right away. He wonders if Dean’s mad at him.

“It’s just… I don’t like when there are too many people. You know that.”

Dean hums. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel whispers back, enjoying the warmth of Dean’s body. “I’m good now.”

He hears Dean move, sliding closer and turning on his side so he can face Castiel.

“D’you wanna play?”

“Yeah.”

He likes when they play games like that. They’re not really games, actually. Dean does that when he wants to talk. It’s weird, but Castiel’s used to it. Dean doesn’t like to talk about stuff like everyone else, he says it’s girly to talk about their day and do nothing else. So they made it into a game. One of them asks a question, and they have to both answer it.

Clearing his throat, Dean looks down. Castiel is getting used to the darkness, now. He can see Dean’s face.

“Tell me your biggest secret,” he breathes, “something even I don’t know.”

Castiel smiles. “You first.”

“’Kay.” He stares at Castiel, frowning like he’s thinking about something real hard. “You remember I told you we had to move here because there was a fire in our old house?”

Castiel nods.

“And you asked me why we moved so far away from my Mom and Dad’s families and I didn’t want to answer?”

Nodding again, Castiel presses himself closer, until he can feel Dean’s breath tickling his nose.

“Yeah.”

“It was because I did it, and nobody would talk to Mom and Dad anymore.”

Castiel blinks. “What do you mean?”

“The fire,” Dean insists. “I did it. On purpose. People found out and the firemen and policemen told everyone else. So the neighbors and the women at Mom’s book club wouldn’t talk to us anymore, and I wasn’t allowed to play with the other kids and stuff. The school didn’t want me anymore. So we had to move very far so nobody would know what I did.”

He stares at Castiel, clearly anxious to see what he’s going to say.

“Why did you do that?”

Dean shrugs. “I tried making small fires in the backyard a few times. It was pretty. I wanted to see a big one and Dad left his lighter on the kitchen counter one day. I thought maybe the curtains would burn easy. I didn’t think it would burn the whole house.” Something like a shiver seems to run through him before he adds, very quietly, “Sammy almost died.”

Slowly, Castiel intertwines their fingers and squeezes once.

“He didn’t.”

“I know,” Dean answers, squeezing back. “But Mom cried and everything.”

“Is that why you didn’t wanna tell me? Because it makes you sad?”

Dean shakes his head, and a small smile appears on his lips.

“No. I liked the fire part. I just… I was scared you’d stop being my friend if I told you.”

“I’ll never stop being your friend, Dean.”

Dean looks completely surprised all of a sudden. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I did something like the fire thing again?”

Nodding, Castiel smiles. “Yeah. I’d love to see a big fire, too. I’d help. It’d be just like the time with the cat.”

The small chuckle coming from Dean is like a punch to the guts for Castiel. A good punch, a wave of warmth that spreads throughout his whole body.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I’d love to do that. I like having secrets with you.”

“Me too.”

There are a few seconds of silence, a fleeting moment during which Castiel wonders if the game is over, if Dean is going to want to go to sleep now. Castiel wants to tell him his secret. His heart starts beating faster, but he doesn’t dare open his mouth.

“Your turn,” Dean finally whispers.

Castiel’s heart misses a beat.

“It’s about Meg.”

“From school?”

Castiel nods. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“You promise you won’t be mad at me. Or grossed out.”

Frowning, Dean scoots closer, if it’s even possible.

“I won’t, I promise. Tell me, Cas.”

Castiel takes a breath. “She asked me to touch her. So I did.”

Dean doesn’t answer right away, looking confused. “You touched her? Where?”

Hesitating for a moment, Castiel bring their joined hands closer to their crotches. As close as he can without touching Dean.

“There.”

“Oh,” is Dean’s only answer. Then after a while, his voice cuts through the silence, “What was it like?”

Castiel shrugs, making a face. “Kinda gross. She’s not like us. It’s like… she’s all inside, you know?”

“Uh.”

Dean seems to think about it for a long time.

“Did she touch you, too?”

“Yeah…” Castiel answers, timidly.

“What was it like?”

“Uh, I don’t know… nice?”

“Can I touch you?”

Castiel’s heart stops. “What?”

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna, I just… I wanna know what it feels like. We can say it’s part of The Game, then you can touch me, too, if you want.”

Castiel can’t talk, he can’t answer. He must be dreaming.

“Cas?”

“Y-yeah. Okay. Yes, you can touch me.”

Letting go of Castiel’s hand, Dean wriggles eagerly, staring at Castiel’s crotch. Castiel feels nervous, suddenly. He doesn’t know why. He hopes Dean won’t think he’s weird down there. He hopes Dean will like it. What happens if he doesn’t? What if he changes his mind? Would he throw Castiel out? Would he tell his parents?

Dean just goes for it. He slides his hand right into Castiel’s pajama pants, and only slows down when he’s close to Castiel’s... thing. Castiel can’t think about the real word for it. It’s just weird. Dirty.

And then Dean’s hand is on him, his fingers probing lightly and Castiel lets out a huff of surprise.

Dean looks up, brow creased in worry. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers back.

He’s slightly dizzy, but not in a bad way. His heart is beating fast in his chest, and he can almost feel it between his legs, too. He feels so hot down there, suddenly. Like Dean’s hand is on fire. But it’s good.

“You’re soft,” Dean comments, still staring down. “You feel like me.”

“Can I touch you, too?”

“Yeah…”

Castiel is more tentative in his approach. With Dean’s hand still on him, he barely knows what he’s doing. The only thing keeping his mind clear is the want that runs through him. He wants to touch Dean. So badly. Has wanted to for a long time.

Dean’s skin right under his pajama pants is soft. Warm. Castiel goes down, slowly, until he reaches the part he’s looking for. It’s really hot, the skin even softer there. He feels the flesh harden under his fingers.

So it’s not just him, then. He wondered.

He asked Gabriel about it and Gabriel just laughed at him. He explained a bit, of course. But not too much. He said Castiel is too young to hear about those things. Sometimes you just get hard down there. In the mornings. Not all of them. Or in the shower, if you think about ‘stuff’, Gabriel said. Castiel thinks he gets it. It can happen when you think about some people. It’s happening to Dean now, and to him, too.

He looks up at Dean, and is surprised to see him stare back at him in awe.

“Is it good?”

Dean nods. They keep going, and suddenly Castiel is out of breath. The touch is good, even if it doesn’t feel quite right. Dean’s cheeks are getting a bit red. Castiel likes it. They keep staring at each other, lost in sensations. Castiel is making a lot of noise, he knows that, but he can’t help it.

Footsteps echo suddenly outside the room, and they jump away from each other. Castiel almost falls out of the bed. He freezes, waiting. The person outside the door seems to have stopped. After a while, the footsteps can be heard again, fading away, going down the stairs.

Dean lets out a relieved sigh.

Castiel scoots closer, but this time he lies on his back, and stares at the ceiling. Somehow he’s self-conscious, now. He doesn’t want to look at Dean. He feels a bit ashamed.

“Good night, Cas,” Dean whispers after some long minutes.

“Night, Dean,” Castiel answers.

And that’s it. They don’t talk about it. Not the next day, not the day after that. They don’t talk about it for a long while.


	3. Part 2: Flesh

##  **Part 2: Flesh**

**“Cas?”**

Castiel hums, not bothering to open his eyes. He’s laying on his back, on the Big Rock by the river, the upper half of his body in the shade, the other half in the sun. It’s summer time, in the middle of the afternoon. Which means they played for a bit, and now it’s time for a little nap. Whatever it is that Dean wants to tell him, it better be good.

“Cas, c’mon!”

“What?”

“Look!”

“I’m sleeping…”

“No, you’re not. Come on, look at the size of that toad!”

There’s so much excitement in Dean’s voice that Castiel can’t help it. He opens his eyes and sits up reluctantly. His bathing suit is still wet. He moves a bit so he’s sitting completely in the sun. Mother won’t like it, she doesn’t like it when he gets a tan, she says it’s dangerous, because of the heat. But he doesn’t care.

Dean is half-naked, too. His mom doesn’t like it either, but it’s for another reason. When Dean gets sun, freckles start to bloom on his skin.

Right now he’s standing in the river, the water coming to lick at his calves, and he’s holding a giant toad in his hands. He gets out of the water, trying to keep the toad from slipping out of his hold. When he gets on the bank, he finds a heavy stone, and pins the toad’s legs to the ground with it. The toad tries to escape, croaking helplessly.

“Hand me my bag, Cas.”

With a sigh, Castiel obeys. He knows what Dean is going to do, so he slides down the rock and comes to sit in front of him.

“You have to stop doing that where people can come and see us.”

Dean shrugs as he searches inside his bag. A fake laugh of triumph leaves his mouth when he finds his lighter. He sits properly then, eyeing Castiel from under his eyelashes.

“Nobody’s coming, relax.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I found this place,” Dean sighs, exasperated. “And I’ve been careful. You saw how hard it is to get down here.”

Castiel pouts. “I know. But still.” He chews on his lower lip, watching Dean poke at the toad with a stick of wood. “We’re thirteen, now. We can go to jail.”

Dean laughs, eyes locked on the toad. He lights his lighter, and brings the flame close to the toad. “They’re not jails, they’re like boarding schools, except you can’t go out.”

The toad gets wild. Dean smiles.

Watching Dean work on the animal until the thing dies, Castiel’s mind starts to drift. Dean is so beautiful. He’s never met someone as beautiful as his friend. Sometimes, out of the blue, he gets this strange need to lick him all over, see how he tastes. But he doesn’t. It would be weird, obviously.

As the afternoon drags on, Castiel watches Dean play with small insects he caught on the water, then set some leaves on fire, just for the pleasure of it. He gets bored after a while. So he climbs back to the Big Rock with a book and tries to read while Dean is occupied. It doesn’t last long.

“Cas.”

Castiel sighs, closing his book and looking at Dean who climbs up to join him.

“I wanna ask you something,” Dean says.

And he looks flustered. It makes Castiel curious.

“What?”

As Dean sits, he fidgets with his fingers, and takes a deep breath.

“Do you remember the time we touched each other? Like… four or five years ago?”

There’s a lump in Castiel’s throat, suddenly. He nods. That’s it. The moment he was dreading. Dean is going to tell him he can’t keep the secret anymore. Or maybe he’s going to tell Castiel he’s disgusting, and they should stop being friends.

“So… do you think we could try that again?”

Oh.

“Now?” Castiel is surprised. He wasn’t expecting this.

Dean shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, why not. Unless you don’t wanna. I don’t mind.”

Expectantly, he stares at Castiel. When Castiel doesn’t answer, he looks down. “Or I can just touch you. You don’t have to touch me back.”

Castiel stays quiet. He feels like he’s in a trance. He wants to. He really does. A passing, frightening thought crosses his mind. This is wrong. This is everything Mother stands against. She would disown him if she knew he wants to touch or being touched by another man. She’d say God would find a way to punish him if he gives in his desires. She’d say he’s going to Hell. But he finds that he doesn’t care. He wants Dean. He’s always wanted Dean. Dean is different, just like Castiel.

Slowly, he stands up. Dean’s eyes follow him, uncertain. They only light up with understanding when Castiel starts to pull down his shorts.

He steps out of them, and waits. Just standing there. Dean is looking at his length, mouth half-opened. He licks his lips.

There, standing naked in the woods, Castiel feels bold, suddenly, excitement rushing through his veins. He cocks an eyebrow at Dean.

“What are you waiting for?”

Dean crawls toward him. He takes his time, straightening up on his knees when he gets close. All of Castiel’s blood seems to rush into his cock at once, in one great wave of need. Seeing Dean on his knees in front of him makes everything ten times better.

The only other time he felt that way was the day they took the old dog near school with them, dragged it in the wood to kill it. Just knowing that it would never bark at them again, or try to bite them when they came close, was a relief.

Just like the relief Castiel is feeling now. He’s wanted it for so long, wanted Dean to touch him again. It’s wonderful. He’s dizzy suddenly, the sensation familiar and all new at once. He’s excited, he realizes. His hands are shaking, and his heart is hammering against his ribcage.

Just before they started cutting into the dog with actual knives that Dean took from his kitchen, Castiel felt the same way. The exact same way. He thought he’d never feel that ever again. He was wrong.

Dean lets his hands rest on Castiel’s hips, slowly, reverently. He strokes the skin there with his thumbs, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s length.

“Do it,” Castiel rasps. “Touch me.”

Dean obeys.

The only times Dean does what Castiel tells him is when they kill something together. The day they killed the dog was beautiful. Dean did every single thing Castiel told him to do. He opened up the old bitch with eagerness when Castiel told him to, as Castiel watched, enraptured.

Now it feels the same. Dean wraps his hand around Castiel’s shaft, and slides his hand down, and then up, once, spreading the liquid spilling out of the head with it. The rush of pleasure reminds Castiel of what it felt like to watch the life leave the dog’s body. Except it’s better.

“Again.”

The sun is burning his bare back. He can smell the water, the trees. The only sounds around are those of the birds. He feels free. He feels powerful.

Dean starts stroking him. It’s better than anything in the world. It’s too much.

“S-stop. Dean, stop.”

Dean almost jumps away from him.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, it’s just…” He blinks. He remembers he’s standing naked in the woods. Anybody could see. “We should go back home.”

Disappointment is clear in Dean’s expression and Castiel feels bad. But Dean doesn’t get it. Castiel wants to do this. He wants to do it properly.

“You can sleep at my house, tonight. We can… we can try again. Mother’s at work. And Gabriel will be out with his friends. We’d be alone.” When Dean looks up, surprised, Castiel just adds, “I feel weird doing it here.”

“Okay.”

Castiel smiles. Slowly, they pack their things, get dressed, and head to their respective homes in silence. Not because they feel ashamed or anything. They’re just so eager. Castiel can see it in the way Dean walks faster than usual, how he gets giddy when he sees their houses in the distance. When they get in the middle of the road between their two houses, Dean finally turns to Castiel.

“I’ll come over after dinner.”

“Okay,” Castiel replies, a little too fast.

“Okay. See you later.”

Castiel nods. Dean grins and sprints home.

In Castiel’s house, everything is quiet. Everything is always quiet since Michael left to live on his own. Gabriel is rarely here. He’s six years older than Castiel, after all. So Castiel is not mad at him. He knows it must be annoying to have your little brother following you around all the time, especially when you have better things to do. It feels that way with Sam, sometimes. Castiel’s known him since he was one year old, so Sam’s like a brother to him. And when he and Dean want to be alone, to go kill something, Sam is always there, wanting to come with them. Luckily for them, from time to time,Mary tells Sam to leave them alone.

Castiel loves Mary. Mother is always at work, ever since Father left. So Mary is like his second mom. Castiel doesn’t know why Father left, but Mother won’t talk about it. Michael wouldn’t either, and Gabriel always says there are things Castiel better stop asking about, because he won’t like the answer, if someone ever gives it to him. Father left when Castiel was a year and a half old, so he doesn’t remember him at all. But Gabriel was almost seven, and Michael was ten. They remember. Castiel is a bit jealous of them for it. But John is nice enough, and Castiel spends enough time at the Winchesters that he considers him like a second dad, too.

There are no pictures of Father around, anyway. Nothing to remind the family of him. It’s like he never existed. So, in a way, Castiel doesn’t really care. He can’t miss what he doesn’t know.

Castiel tries to eat while he waits for Dean. He searches the pantry for something good, ends up finding a pack of cereal and decides it’ll make a good enough dinner. He tries to watch some cartoons, but there’s nothing good on TV.

Deciding that he’s not going to make it if he waits in the living room, he goes up to his room, grabs a book from his backpack and sits on the window to read and watch the streets at the same time. But reading while he’s as excited as he is now is difficult. After an hour, he gives up on his book. He takes a shower instead, thinking it’ll be better for Dean if he’s all clean and doesn’t smell.

But Dean is taking his sweet time. Castiel just can’t wait anymore after that. He starts pacing his room instead, tidying up a bit, to keep busy.

And finally, finally, after what feels like hours, even though it can’t be since the sun is still up, Dean shows up on the other side of the street. Castiel runs down the stairs, throwing the front door open when he gets there. Dean hastens his pace, doing everything he can not to run. It would be suspicious.

Once Dean’s inside, Castiel closes the door, making sure to turn the key twice to lock the door, before turning to his friend. Dean is staring, impatient. So Castiel leads the way, climbing the steps to his room two by two. Once inside, he closes the curtains, and turns to look at Dean who’s closing the door behind him.

Castiel doesn’t waste any time. He takes off his clothes, and once naked goes to lie down on his bed. For a while, Dean does nothing but stand where he is, frozen in place, as he stares at Castiel. And then in a second he’s on the bed, on his knees beside Castiel.

Castiel’s insides clench in anticipation. Dean scoots closer, and slowly put his hand flat on Castiel’s belly. His cock jumps without his consent. He’s already hard. Dean tentatively runs his knuckles against it. Castiel gasps.

Dean starts to stroke him in earnest, then, his fist tightens around his length, and Castiel can’t hold back the noises coming out of his mouth. His cheeks get hot, and he wants to touch and be touched all over. It’s so good, so, so good, but he wants to touch, too.

He slaps Dean’s hand away.

“Cas, what’s wr—“

“Take off your clothes,” Castiel orders, pushing up on his elbows to look at him.  

“Right,” Dean blinks. “Right.”

He jumps off the bed, almost shreds off his clothes and comes back close to Castiel who’s now sitting cross-legged, waiting for him. As soon as he’s close enough, Castiel reaches between Dean’s legs to press his palm to the hot flesh there. It’s as wonderful as he remembered. Even better.

“Wait,” Dean breathes, “lie down.”

He pushes at Castiel’s chest until Castiel complies, and comes to hover over him. Dean lowers his body down, until their cocks are touching. Castiel gasps. Yes, it’s good. It’s very good, until Dean starts moving his hips frenetically, and then it’s perfect.

Castiel starts making those noises without wanting to. He’s lost. Heat comes to his face, to his chest, and between his legs. When Dean wraps his hand around the both of them, he almost loses it. Something weird is happening, something big, inside of him, a big electric storm inside his lower belly and he’s half scared, half fascinated.

Everything around him is Dean. The sounds, the smell, the heat. Dean, Dean, Dean. He wants to shout Dean’s name, but when he opens his mouth his voice is barely a whisper.

“D-Dean, Dean…”

“Shh, Cas. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Dean doesn’t get it. It’s too much. Something bad is going to happen, Castiel knows it. There’s too much pressure, too much heat pooling in his belly, he can’t hold it, he can’t, he can’t—

The pleasure explodes inside of him, and he’s not even aware that he closed his eyes. He just hears his voice echoing in the room, Dean’s panting above him a faraway sound, while hundreds of hundreds of little needles of pleasure course through his veins.

“Dean,” he keens, when the sensation has lowered enough for him to speak again.

He feels like he’s smothered cotton, he can’t move. When he looks down, there’s something white and sticky-looking on his stomach. What--?

“It’s okay, Cas, it’s normal, it’s…”

Dean can’t talk anymore, and he lets his forehead rest on Castiel’s shoulder while he keeps stroking himself. He’s moaning now, a strange appealing sound, into Castiel’s ear. Castiel just holds him close, until Dean shouts, and he feels something wet hit his stomach.

When Dean is done, he rolls on the side, sighing with relief. But Castiel doesn’t look at him. He looks at his stomach, and he wonders. So that’s what they call an orgasm, then. He never tried to touch himself, never saw the point. But now he understands.

He dips his finger into their _come_ , bringing it to his mouth. It doesn’t taste like anything, really. But it’s his, and Dean’s. He turns to look at his friend. Dean is looking at him, wide eyed.

Castiel blinks at him, until he finds his voice again.

“Can we do that again, sometime?”

Dean just nods. He looks exhausted. Castiel makes a quick work of wiping himself up with a discarded t-shirt and takes Dean in his arms. Now he knows. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Dean. Mother talks about a wife, but Castiel doesn’t want that. He wants Dean. All of Dean. Forever.


	4. Part 3: Jealousy

##  **Part 3: Jealousy**

**Rhonda Hurley. That bitch.**

She’s standing next to Dean, running her hand through his hair, flaunting her breasts at him. And he’s just sitting there, smiling at her, holding her close by the hips.

Castiel wants to kill her.

The realization hits him, and he has to stop what he’s doing and close his eyes for a moment.

The cafeteria is no place to plan a murder, though, and so he opens his eyes again, and stops looking at Dean.

Ever since they entered high school, they have a rule. They don’t talk to each other, don’t acknowledge each other. Dean’s part of the football team, and Castiel is just _a nerd_ , in Dean’s own terms. It’s true that Castiel likes to learn a lot of things. He’s particularly fascinated by human anatomy. Mother is proud, thinking he wants to be a doctor.

If only she knew…

But it’s better if she thinks that. And, if he chooses to study medicine, he’ll be able to go away with Dean. Far away from here. They planned it, for a while. They want to explore the world, and… find something more interesting than cats and dogs to kill. College is a good enough excuse to go away.

Dean and Castiel are not part of the same world, here. Castiel is way too advanced for all the classes they teach in this school, for one thing. But he won’t move on to college without Dean. Dean is very smart, too. But Castiel thinks he plays dumb on purpose. If he wanted, he could skip all the classes they want to make Castiel skip. But he doesn’t. Dean likes the football team, likes the attention it brings on him. And being too smart when you’re part of any of the sports team is not seen well by anyone, not even the teachers. A bunch of stupid assholes, if you ask Castiel.

So Castiel endures it, as long as it lasts. He endures Dean’s flirting with girls. He even let him kiss them, touch them. Because, as Dean said, he’s not gay. And there’s no need for everybody to know that Castiel and Dean spend their nights jerking each other off.

Dean sees. He knows what it does to Castiel when he does what he’s doing with Rhonda. The way he glances at Castiel while she kisses him right on the mouth, oh, he knows what he’s doing. Castiel is so going to punish him for it.

Today is Friday. Which means that tonight Dean comes to sleep at Castiel’s place. And Castiel has spent some time around the internet, searching for new things to experiment on with Dean. Dean says Castiel is just an uptight virgin. Because Dean has done so many things, and Castiel barely jerks himself off. But Castiel doesn’t care what Dean says. He wants to take his time. And he only wants Dean.

When he gets home, the house is quiet. Mother is at church, helping set up an AA meeting, which has Castiel suspect his Father was maybe an alcoholic since he still doesn’t know why he left, and after that she’ll go to work. Gabriel moved out of the house after his twenty-first birthday, about a year ago. Dean has been coming to sleep here more and more often after that.

He does what he always does while he waits for Dean, homework, eating, showering, watching TV or catching up on his readings.

Today he finds the time to do both, which is odd. When he glances at the clock he sees that Dean is an hour late. Dread suddenly fills Castiel. What if something happened to him? He checks his phone, but there’s no new text.

So he decides to cross the street to the Winchesters’. Mary opens the door, and smiles at him when she sees him.

“Hi, Cas. Do you want to come in? I made pie for dessert.”

He smiles back. “No, thank you, Mary. Is Dean here? He was supposed to come to my place tonight but he’s late.”

A look of surprise crosses her face. She looks behind her shoulder, uncomfortable.

“He didn’t tell you? Oh, Dean…” she sighs, rolling her eyes.

“What?”

Castiel is nervous. What didn’t Dean tell him? They always tell each other _everything_.

“He told me he was going out with his girlfriend, tonight… I’m sorry. He should have told you his plans had changed.”

His heart stops for a second. Dean went out. Without telling him. With a girl.

“His girlfriend…” he says, more aggressive than he wants to sound, “Rhonda?”

Mary’s smile is full of pity.

“Yes.”

He’s going to kill her. He’s going to stab her to death. He’s going to—

“You know, Cas,” Mary goes on, “sometimes… when people grow up… they grow apart. I’m sure you’ll understand when you find a girlfriend, too. Don’t be too mad at Dean, okay?”

He nods so hard he hurts the back of his neck. “I understand. Thank you.”

He turns back to his house without saying goodbye, feeling like he’s out of his body. Dean stood him up. For a girl. It never happened before. Maybe Mary is right, and it’s just Dean’s hormones talking. Maybe Dean is not as different from others as Castiel thought. He feels empty. Angry. He needs to do something about it. He needs to see if Dean is really committed.

The next day, Castiel pretends nothing is wrong. He lets Dean come to his house, and they lay down on his bed, watching some cartoons on Gabriel’s computer that he gave to Castiel when he left. But Dean doesn’t even try to touch Castiel. And even if he did, Castiel wouldn’t want Dean to touch him until he knows exactly what happened with Rhonda.

“About last night…” he starts after they’ve been silent for an entire episode of the Simpsons.

Dean has the decency to look partially ashamed, but the shame quickly disappears, replaced by a huge grin.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t call. Rhonda invited me,” Dean says, flopping on his belly next to where Castiel is sitting cross-legged. “It was really sudden so I didn’t have time to tell you. Man, I couldn’t wait to get home and tell you everything!”

He chuckles, looking at the now black screen of the computer. Castiel tries to relax his mouth, tries not to chew on his lower lip so he won’t give anything away. He tries to sound interested.

“What happened?”

Dean has a dreamy look on his face, and he sighs.

“We went to see a chick flick. I didn’t want to go but, anyway, I didn’t even see half of the thing because she kept fondling my balls,” he laughs. Castiel’s heart rate speeds up. “And at one point she just dropped on her knees and she sucked my dick, right in the middle of the theater. Best date of my life!”

Blood rushes in Castiel’s ears. He barely hears himself next time he opens his mouth.

“And?”

“And, Dude, she took me home and…” Dean gives him a proud smirk, “let’s say you’re the only virgin in the room, now.”

She touched him. She touched him, she tasted him, and now Dean’s wasted for Castiel. It won’t ever be the same. The bitch. The fucking whore. Castiel huffs a little laugh, the sound of it so fake he wonders how Dean doesn’t see right through it. But Dean is oblivious, too caught up in his own recollection of events. He tells Castiel _everything_. Every little detail.

When Dean leaves, Castiel throws up. He spends a solid hour in the bathroom, above the toilet, waiting for everything he ate since forever to come out. Dean has found someone else. Is it Castiel’s fault? Is Dean like everyone else, now? Doesn’t he want to spend his life with Castiel?

Full of doubt, and since he’s too sick to go to school the next Monday, he takes a bus and goes to see Gabriel in town.

“Bro, are you seriously asking me for advice on your love life?”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him, chewing on a piece of pizza that looks like it’s at least several days old. Castiel shrugs.

 “It’s Dean… you know him, too. It’s just…” frustrated, he huffs.

Gabriel stands up, rummaging through his fridge before coming back with two beers and offering one to Castiel.

“You know, maybe it’s not such a bad idea that he decided to go and explore other horizons, I mean…” he gives Castiel a knowing look, “you two do have had a weird, co-dependent relationship ever since you were little.”

Castiel looks down. Yes, Gabriel knows about some things. Not about the animals. But about the touching, he does know. He never said anything about it.

“Why am I like that?”

It’s the only thing he can get out, now. He doesn’t understand why Dean is becoming normal, and he’s not.

“You mean why are you a narcissistic pervert? Cassie, why am I an incapable, pathetic, unemployed porn addict? You know there’s one answer to that and I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna hear it.”

He looks like he’s telling a joke, or just giving Castiel the weather. But Castiel knows what he’s talking about. He tried to coax it out of his brother a few times, but Gabriel keeps his mouth shut.

“It’s about Father, I know. Why don’t you tell me what you know instead of using him as an excuse for why you can’t go anywhere in life? Michael doesn’t have your problems. So if Father was really the proble—“

But Gabriel starts laughing, so loud, and sounding so crazy all of a sudden that Castiel can’t finish his sentence.

“Michael doesn’t have my problems? Oh, boy…” He’s still chuckling as he downs a good half of his beer. “You don’t know the first thing about Michael, Kiddo. He’s exactly like Dad.”

“If you want to talk about it just tell me instead of teasing me like you always do.”

Suddenly serious, Gabriel stares at him, for what seem to be long minutes. He thinks about it, and Castiel can see the moment he makes a decision. He puts down his beer on the coffee table.

“Dad is dead, Cas. He died in prison. Got his ass handed to him by his inmates.”

Castiel blinks.

“Why was he in prison?”

“Incest. Pedophilia. Child molesting,” Gabriel answers, adverting his eyes. “I don’t know the right term for it.”

Castiel feels numb. His heart seems to leap in his chest, sending blood rushing in his body, leaving him paralyzed. He hopes Gabriel is not telling him what he thinks he is.

“What?”

Gabriel chews on his lower lip for a while, before he opens his mouth again.

“I was his favorite because I look like Mom,” he goes on, not looking at him. Castiel’s heart skips a beat. “Michael was jealous. Can you believe that? He was jealous that our friggin’ dad liked to touch me more than him.”

He huffs. His laugh is humorless. Castiel doesn’t know what to say, so he just listens. It looks like Gabriel waited a long time to get that off his chest. And anyway, he couldn’t get a word out even if he wanted to. What Gabriel is telling him is huge. Unimaginable.

“Sometimes he had Michael do stuff instead of him. He just sat there and watched, the fucking perv…”

He’s still smiling, on the verge of tears. He grabs his beer again, suddenly, holding on to it like it’s the only thing keeping him anchored in the present.

“But, Mother…” Castiel starts.

He doesn’t get the time to finish his sentence.

“Oh, she knew, but she never did anything about it. Maybe she thought if she prayed hard enough he’d stop.” Gabriel turns to Castiel again, suddenly full of rage. “You know, she caught us right in the middle of it, once. I remember that day because Dad decided to tape us. And I swear, right in the middle of it, Michael and me both buck naked, with Dad sitting in a corner filming us while Mikey…” he stops, closing his eyes to hold back the tears, before he continues. “We were in the basement and she wanted to do some laundry or some shit, and I remember being on my hands on knees, I remember how I felt when I heard the door open. I was so fucking scared, but so relieved at the same time. When I saw it was her I thought ‘that’s it, it’s over. We’re saved’. And you know what she did?”

He opens his eyes again. Castiel shakes his head, feeling tears spill on his cheeks. He doesn’t want to hear it. But he keeps silent.

“She just stood there, like she just saw a ghost. Dad didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. And she turned around, and she left, like nothing happened. And she never talked about it.”

Very quietly, Castiel asks, “How did he end up in prison, then?”

It takes a few seconds for Gabriel to answer. First, he looks up, like he’s asking for strength from some unknown all powerful entity, before he looks at Castiel again.

“One day you started crying, and crying and crying and you wouldn’t stop. Dad went crazy on Mom’s ass, so she took you to the hospital.” Gabriel swallows, looking away. “You had some weird internal damage so they dug around, called the police, child services and everything… and that’s it. They took him away.”

Feeling like his consciousness is slowly exiting his body, Castiel tries to move, shuffling on his seat, to come back to reality but what he’s hearing is too big. How could their mother let this happen? And he has a feeling it’s not the end of the story, judging by the look Gabriel gives him.

He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“And then?”

Gabriel finishes his beer, but keeps the bottle in his hands, fidgeting with it.

“Then Michael took over. And here we are.”

He’s smiling again, a crazy smile that tells Castiel he should probably do something, hug his brother, anything. But he doesn’t find the courage to do it.

“So you… he… until he moved away?”

Gabriel laughs again. “How do you think I can afford this place, Cassie? Honestly?” he stands up, putting the beer down and turns his back on Castiel. “I don’t have a job. I don’t do anything with my life. How do you think I pay for all that shit?”

He turns to face Castiel again, waving around, a look of desperation on his face. He’s crying now, for real. Castiel stops breathing when he understands.

“Michael… he pays for everything? But… you…”

Covering his mouth with his hand, Castiel looks down. He can’t believe it. He feels like throwing up again.

“So you’re disgusted of me, yet, Kiddo? You brothers fuck each other in exchange for money, how’s that for a fucked up family?”

“But… I don’t understand…” Looking up, Castiel gives Gabriel a pleading look. “Why did you… why did you move away if you knew you’d have to… to…”

Gabriel shrugs, wiping the tears off his face. “I figured when I started lusting on Sam when he was barely twelve,” he sneers, disgusted, “that it was probably my cue to leave.”

Silence falls on them, heavy and uncomfortable. Castiel can’t move, can’t say anything because of all the things he imagined his father to be, this wasn’t it. This is unimaginable. He couldn’t have guessed and knowing what Gabriel went through, what he’s been trying to tell Castiel all these years, Castiel thinks he should have pushed it, pulled the information out of him sooner, so he wouldn’t have to do what he does with Michael now. But it’s too late, isn’t it? And anyway, Castiel has no business in it. He doesn’t talk to Michael that much, and he doubts he’ll speak to him ever again now that he knows… God!

“Just, see yourself out, okay,” Gabriel says after a while, his voice flat, “I just need…” he trails off, walking away.

Castiel hears the lock turn on the bathroom door, and the water running. He gets out, slowly, and walks home.

He wants to stop thinking about everything, he just wants to sleep and forget. But his phone chirps in his pocket, signaling a new text.

_From : Dean_  
**Srry have to cancel tonite. Gonna  
see rhnda. See u tomrrow?**

As he feels a cold rage build up inside of him, Castiel takes a decision.

Five days later, Dean starts to panic.

“I don’t know what to do, Cas…” he whispers.

Rhonda disappeared. There have been search parties, but so far nothing turned up. Castiel thinks the body should have resurfaced by now. Everybody’s stupid in this town, anyway.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Castiel sighs. “She probably ran away just to spite her insanely rich parents, I’m sure she’ll come back as soon as she’s done.”

Dean takes this the wrong way, obviously. He stops talking to Castiel altogether, until one day the whole school is invited to the gym. Everybody sits in silence, looking at the director of the school flanked by two policemen.

They announce that they found Rhonda’s body. Burned, tortured. Stabbed thirty-two times. Castiel didn’t count, he didn’t think it was that much. He _was_ angry that night, though. It makes sense. One of her friends asks, voice trembling, if she suffered. Castiel barely holds back from rolling his eyes. Of course she did, that was the goal of the whole thing.

When everything’s done, Castiel wastes no time leaving the gym. They all have the day off, and soon everybody is outside, crying their eyes out, holding each other. It’s disgusting. Castiel goes to his locker. He has stuff to take from it, and, as he walks there, he thinks maybe he’ll take the time to go see Gabriel. He’s not sure he wants to see his brother after everything he learned, but there’s something inside him telling he should, anyway.

Suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder, and in a second he’s slammed against his locker, the impact making his ears ring.

“Did you kill her?”

Dean. Castiel blinks until he can see properly again. He smiles.

“What do you think?”

Dean lets go of him, holding his hands up to his head, looking scared and panicked.

“Christ, Cas!” He turns around, takes a few steps away, comes back, lost. “Jesus, fuck! Why? She didn’t… she never did anything wrong!”

Strangely, Castiel feels calm. Peaceful.

“She took you away from me.”

“Fuck! That’s… it’s… not a reason to-- fucking Christ!”

He’s on the verge of panic now, so Castiel steps into his space, until Dean is looking right at him.

“She deserved it. And so did you,” he whispers.

Dean’s breath hitches. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t say anything. He looks like he’s about to cry.

“I burned her, just for you,” Castiel goes on. “I know you like it. I wish you were there with me, it was beautiful.”

“Cas…”

“Are you going to tell on me, Dean? You’re going to send me to prison?”

“No…” Dean breathes, after a moment of hesitation. “Of course not…”

“You know I did it because of you,” Castiel goes on, carried by the thrill of the revelation, “the way you looked at me when you were with her, you knew exactly what you were doing to me.”

“I—“

“You’re mine, Dean. You understand?”

“I thought y-you liked it,” Dean stammers, “I thought… you just never do anything, with anyone, ever. I thought—“

“It’s because I only want you.”

Dean closes his mouth. He blinks, once, twice, and Castiel can see the wheels in his brain turn. The only noises filling the hall are the voices of their classmates and teachers outside, echoing in the building.

And Dean stops being scared.

“You never said anything.”

“I thought it was clear,” Castiel answers.

“But…”

“Are you mine, Dean? Yes, or no?”

“I-“

“Are you?”

Castiel insists, because he has to. If Dean says no, then he’ll be done with him. He can’t go on like this. It hurts him too much, and with everything he learned about his family, he doesn’t know what he’ll do once Dean stops being a part of his life.

Slowly, Dean nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’m yours, Cas. I’m all yours.”

“Prove it.”         

“H-how?”

“Kiss me.”

It’s an order. Dean shouldn’t discuss this. But he does, anyway.

“Here? I can’t—“

Castiel grabs a fistful of his hair, effectively shutting him off. Dean stares at him, gulps, and looks down at Castiel’s lips. It‘s all the invitation Castiel needs. He crashes their mouths together, pushing his tongue in Dean’s. It’s his first kiss. And he intends to make it good. Dean kisses back after a few seconds, and it’s everything Castiel imagined it to be, and more. Dean slams him against his locker again, and pulls away only when they’re both on the verge of fainting from lack of breath.

Castiel feels alive again. After what happened with Rhonda, he felt like there was no space inside of him for anything but a quiet, distant satisfaction. But now, oh! Now he’s on fire. He’s so hard the zipper of his jeans is digging into his erection. Seeing Dean like this, out of breath, lips red and swollen from their kiss, it makes his blood boil.

“Now suck my cock.”

Dean takes a step back.

“I can’t Cas, not here. I’ll come by tonight and I’ll do whatever you want, I swear, but not here, what if someone comes and sees us?”

“You’re ashamed of being seen with me.”

“No, It’s not that, it’s—Cas!”

Castiel is holding him by his hair again, pushing him down until Dean is on his knees in front of him. He doesn’t care if someone sees them. He doesn’t care about anything. He has Dean.

“Then. Suck. My. Cock. Do it, Dean.”

Hesitating, Dean keeps staring up at him for a second. He raises his hand, unbuttoning Castiel’s jeans slowly. His eyes never leave Castiel’s face.

“I’ve never done it before.”

“You’ll manage,” Castiel breathes.

Dean’s hands are so close. He savors the anticipation, the thrill that goes through him when Dean pulls his boxers down, just enough so that he can take a hold of his cock. Outside, there are still voices. Dean glances quickly toward the end of the hall, worry creasing his brow, but he quickly comes back to Castiel’s face.

“Are you scared your friends will find us,” Castiel whispers.

Dean licks up a stripe from his balls to the head of his cock, tasting the skin. Castiel hisses.

“You’re scared they’ll say you’re a fag.”

Dean still doesn’t answer and closes his eyes as he takes Castiel in mouth. He starts sucking hard, his hand moving up and down to cover the bit he can’t reach with his mouth. Castiel keeps a firm hold on Dean’s hair, his other hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to keep quiet.

“The truth is, you love my cock, Dean.”

Dean hums in answer, sending a spark of pleasure up Castiel’s spine. He feels it pool inside his lower belly. His heart is beating like crazy, half out of excitement, half out of fear of getting caught. He’s not going to hold on much longer.

“Tonight I’m going to fuck you,” he blurts out, overwhelmed by the need to do it as soon as the words pass his mouth.

Dean opens his eyes, looking up as he keeps sucking. He starts bobbing his head, and Castiel feels his balls get tight under the weight of that look.

“I’m gonna come in your mouth, Dean.”

Dean hums his consent, and Castiel’s gone. He bites on his lower lip to muffle any moan that wants to escape his mouth. And Dean keeps sucking, swallowing everything. Castiel is in Heaven. His heart is beating so fast he feels like he’s dying, the blood rushing to his head the only sound he can still hear.

When the pleasure recedes, Castiel looks down. Dean is tucking him in again. Once he’s done, he slides up Castiel’s body, and he lets his lips brush Castiel’s.

“I’m all yours,” he says again.

His hardness is pressed against Castiel’s thigh, but he doesn’t move. He breathes Castiel in, for a minute or two maybe, until a door is slammed somewhere in the distance. He pulls away, then, giving Castiel one last look.

He leaves.


	5. Dress Rehearsal

It’s been five years.

Five fricking years, and Victor Henriksen worked his ass off to prove to his boss that he could deal with a case of his own. But working for the FBI isn’t a walk in the park. According to his colleagues, there’s no way he’ll be a lead inspector for another five to ten years. Because he’s too young, they say. But he’s pretty sure it’s because he’s too _black_ for their taste, too.

Well, he turned thirty a couple weeks ago. It’s not _that_ old. As for the rest… they’ll have to deal with it.

“Wanna prove to me you’re worth it, Vic?”

Victor looks up and away from his computer. Reports. He hates them. Rufus Turner, his current boss, is staring at him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Uh,” Victor answers, not very smartly, “of course. What’s up?”

“Got a case,” Rufus tells him. He starts walking away, so Victor hastily follows, “should be easy enough that I can put some rookies on it.”

Victor knows better than to protest that remark. “I’m… thanks.”

They enter Rufus’s office. There’s a woman sitting in front of his desk, waiting, so it seems. When she turns to watch them come in with a smirk on her face, Victor frowns. Who is this girl? Psyche intern, maybe? She looks like someone who’s into profiling.

Rufus grunts as he sits in his chair, on the other side of the desk. “Sit,” he orders, waving a hand at the chair next to the one the girl’s taken. “So,” Rufus eyes them both, “Victor, this is Pamela Barnes. Pamela, Victor Henriksen. Get used to each other. If this works, you’re likely to be paired for a while.”

It takes a few seconds for Victor to process what he’s hearing. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Pamela tells him with a sigh, “I’m gonna cry.”

Rufus raises an eyebrow at Victor. “Problem?”

“No,” he huffs. Then he remembers where he is. “No, Sir. I’m just… surprised.”

Pamela smiles pleasantly at him. “Sexist?”

“What? No!”

“Then you’re both fine,” Rufus concludes. He pulls out a file from his desk and almost throws it at them. “A girl’s been murdered. In New Jersey. High school cheerleader, popular, smart. Shouldn’t take you too long to find the teenage piece of shit who killed her.”

Victor nods.

“What does it have to do with the FBI,” Pamela asks, taking the file from under Victor’s hand.

Christ, he’s going to hate her, he just knows it.

“Technicalities,” Rufus spits. “The place she’s been dumped is on the edge of New York and New Jersey. Cops can’t agree on who should lead the case, so we took over. And you’re it.”

Victors sighs. Pamela smiles, looking like it’s the best day of her life, “Great!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rufus waves a hand at them. “Now get out of here!”

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

“This… doesn’t look like your usual teenage murder,” Pamela lets out, thoughtfully as she chews on some gum.

The pics of the victim in front of them don’t tell them much, beside the fact that the crime was messy. Probably a crime of passion. But the clues are vague, at best. And the local cops aren’t helping.

“Well, the whole scene was on fire when the police got there,” Victor answers, eyes on the file.

“I know,” Pam says. “I’ve read the file, too, thank you very much.”

“We should go see the girl’s friends. Her boyfriend, maybe?”

Pamela shakes her head. “Locals already did. He’s clean, poor boy.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to double check…”

He reads the reports again, thinking. No viable fingerprints were found, no weapon, no nothing. The fire destroyed everything. And Rufus said it was going to be easy…

“The local PD was very thorough,” Pam finally says after a moment of silence. “I swear, if I have to read those interviews one more time—“

“Alright, alright, I get it…”

“I mean, would it kill them to be concise? Seriously…” She pushes some pictures around, arranging them differently. For the fourth time. “I don’t think the killer is your usual teenage suspect…”

Victor tsks, annoyed. “Cause you’ve seen so many cases you can tell, right?”

Pam glares at him. “Shut up. I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, you’ve been saying. For an hour. If you don’t want to do anything about it then stop talking and think.”

“Fuck, Henriksen, what crammed up your ass and died?” He doesn’t answer, choosing to stare at the crime scene pics again. She shakes her head like she can’t believe him. “Right. Stuck up asshole.”

“Okay,” he snaps, closing the file and throwing it on the table. A couple of pictures fall on the ground. “How old are you?”

She manages to look both unimpressed and surprised. “What does it have to do with this case?”

“Five years I’ve been doing this,” he answers. Now he’s pissed. “Following behind someone, doing the crappy paperwork they didn’t want to do ‘coz they were too important for it anyway. I’ve worked hard to get where I am now. And you, you graduate and you land a full case? What did you do, huh?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Would you feel better if I told you I sucked some dicks?” Standing up, she picks up the pictures from the floor. “Not that I did, mind you. I actually worked, too.”

“Sure.”

“Yup. Because I’m a woman. So, believe it or not, I had to work twice as hard as you did. And it paid.” She reaches for the file, straightening up as she grabs it, “So, now, are you going to be an ass for the rest of our partnership, or are we gonna investigate like the pros that we are?”

All Victor can do is stare.

She’s annoying. Loud. Sometimes rude. But even he has to admit, if she’s here, that means she’s good. She has to be. And if they have to work together for several years… he should make an effort. A small one, at least.

“Fine,” he breathes. “I’m sorry. Let’s start again.”

She smiles, and it looks like she means it. “Awesome. Now let’s go send some motherfucker to jail!”


	6. PƋrt ᶚ : ɈɘɑȴǿʋȿȲ

##  **PƋrt** **ᶚ** **: ɈɘɑȴǿʋȿȲ**

 

 

**Castiel doesn’t get caught, obviously.**

Dean stops seeing girls. They finish high school, take the first bus out of town they can find, and go on their way together. Castiel finds a small local college that accepts late applicants, and enrolls in their medicine studies program. Dean is not interested in college. So he finds a job in a small coffee shop. Castiel had to find a job, too, so he applied to the fast food chain restaurant closest to their one bedroom apartment. Life goes on.

Except there’s a twist to their life. As soon as they got out of their town, they started killing together. Usually young, impressionable girls. They don’t care if they deserved it or not. To Castiel they did, at least. They’re all girls who hit on Dean. That’s their method to choose someone. They go into a bar. Castiel sits in a corner, and Dean leans at the counter. If someone comes and touches him, then she (or the occasional ‘he’) is the one who’ll get it.

They never do that where they live. They take short trips, on week-ends, once every three months or so. It’s enough, for now. And after… oh, after. Dean is transformed. Appeased. Pliant. And Castiel feels like he’s the master of the universe. The sex following a killing is usually explosive.

By the time Castiel abandons his studies three years after he started, they’ve stopped counting how many they killed. Castiel thinks it’s better if they don’t. It’s better if they don’t keep souvenirs, either. So, no photos of the both of them in places they’ve ‘visited’. No trophy from their kills. Only pay with cash. Take the money at the college’s ATM before they go. Castiel pays attention to those sort of things. They have to if they don’t want to get caught.

Dean… It’s not that Dean doesn’t care, but he trusts Castiel to take care of those things. And sometimes, as a result, he’s not as careful as he should be. In their hometown, he’s the opposite of careful.

Which leads to this day. Dean and Castiel are grocery shopping, and Castiel is scouting the organic aisle while Dean is probably somewhere looking for something to clog his arteries even more than they already are. But when Castiel gets to the end of the aisle and looks up, he sees Dean talking to a pretty brunette and a kid a few feet away from him. She smiles at Dean, playfully touching his arm as she does. Dean smiles back, and he looks _flustered_. Castiel sees red.

He keeps pushing his cart, slowly, until he reaches them. Dean’s smile falls when he sees Castiel, and the woman just gives him a curious, polite look. He smiles his brightest, for strangers smile.

“Hi,” he just says, turning to Dean as if to ask ‘aren’t you going to introduce us?’

“Uh, Cas, this is Lisa,” Dean mumbles, “Lisa, this is Castiel. My…” if he says anything other than ‘boyfriend’, Castiel is so going to lock him up in the apartment and never letting him out, “partner.”

Interesting choice of word, there, but Castiel is not fooled by it. ‘Partner’ can mean anything. Lisa looks down at all the veggies in Castiel’s cart, and her eyes get wider.

“Oh,” she smiles, looking up again. Another one of those cliché Castiel hates. As if you could tell people’s sexual orientation from the number of organic products they buy. “It’s nice to meet you. This is my son, Ben,” she adds, wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Say hi, Ben.”

“Hi,” the boy whispers, looking at the floor.

She has a son, then. Good. For a minute there, Castiel was well about to explode in the middle of the store. He wonders why Dean looks flustered, though. Another one of those thing Castiel will never understand about Dean. Sometimes he just gets shy over small things, depending on how ‘girly’ or unmanly they appear to him. He has a sort of complex about that. About appearing like a good old American male, virile and proud. He doesn’t want them holding hands in the streets, for example. “I’m not a fag, Cas,” he just says, when Castiel tries.

Castiel knows he has John to thank for that kind of behavior, which has been drilled into Dean’s head ever since he’s little. Being an army man, raised mostly by his instructors, it’s no wonder John is a bit old-fashioned. But coming from Dean, it’s more than annoying. They’ve been having sex together since they were eight. You’d think he’d be used to it, by now.

“It was really good seeing you again, Dean,” Lisa finally says when Dean’s awkwardness and Castiel’s silence get too unbearable. “We should…” she eyes Castiel, as if to include him, “we should get together sometimes.”

“Sure,” Castiel answers, as pleasantly as he can.

Dean nods. “See ya, Lis.”

Castiel holds on for a grand total of ten seconds, just enough so that he can finally whisper to Dean when Lisa is out of earshot, “Who’s that?”

“Just a friend,” Dean answers, taking the vegetables out of the cart and putting them on the register.

“Just a friend?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, finally looking at him. “We met at work, she was a regular like, two years ago. She was a friend of Charlie, you know, my co-worker?”

Castiel nods. Alright, then. They’ve talked about this. About Castiel trusting Dean a little bit more, hold back on the jealous bursts of rage. So he lets it go, and they go back to their apartment, make love, and things go back to normal.

Until one day, Castiel notices that something is off about Dean. He stopped talking about his day when he comes back from work, and he’s angry at Castiel more often than not. As if Castiel was a nuisance, somehow. It’s weird, and it makes Castiel feel as if someone reached inside his ribcage and punched him in the heart.

He tried asking Dean what was wrong, but Dean refuses to talk about it. He says Castiel is making things up. So Castiel decides to take things into his own hands. He follows Dean, one evening, when Dean storms out after an umpteenth fight between them.

At first, Dean walks around the block a few times, visibly fuming, and heads for the nearest bar. He sits inside for ten minutes, sipping on a beer with a furious look on his face, and takes his phone out. Castiel, hidden on the other side of the street, in the shadows, thinks he’s going to get a call any second. Dean hesitates, toying at his phone. Then he starts typing a text. Satisfied, Castiel is willing to leave it at that, if what Dean is sending him resembles an excuse.

Except Dean puts his phone down, and the text never reaches Castiel. Twenty minutes later, Lisa appears in front of the bar, walking in and sits next to Dean, hugging him as if Dean needs comforting. Whatever Dean told her, Castiel knows it’s not something he is likely to approve of. He stays, looking at them both as they start chatting, his blood starting to boil under his skin. He tries to reason with himself. Dean’s not going to cheat on him. He can’t. They’ve been through too much, together. But as Lisa and Dean start laughing, getting closer and closer to each other, Castiel has to admit defeat. They’re flirting. Very obviously. In the middle of a bar.

When they get out, Dean holds her hand.

So Castiel follows them. They take Lisa’s car, and Castiel barely manages to grab a taxi before he loses them. He thanks the driver when they get there, in a charming little suburban street, and goes to hide behind a bush in Lisa’s front lawn. He peeps through the window, feeling more than enraged now. He’s empty. His heart still flutters inside his chest when Dean leans over and kisses her, but it’s his only reaction.

He watches as they fuck on Lisa’s perfect white couch, waiting for them to be done before he goes home.

The feeling of hollowness doesn’t leave him. He pretends he’s sleeping when Dean comes back at four in the morning, reeking of her cheap perfume. He pretends he doesn’t know anything when he wakes up to Dean serving him coffee, whistling a happy tune to himself. He doesn’t pull back when Dean kisses him, suggesting they spend their Saturday in bed. He just lies, smiling, says he would, but he has to cover for a shift at work.

And he leaves.

Stalking Lisa is easy. His main problem is getting her without having to harm her son. It’s not the child’s fault if his mom is a cheap slut. Besides, Castiel doesn’t hurt children. The ghost of his father prevents him. Lucky for him, Dean doesn’t care much about his phone. He takes it with him at work, and when he gets out, but when he’s at home he doesn’t check it often. So Castiel steals it, planning on sending her a text from it when the time comes.

He scouts an old abandoned motel outside of town, finds that it’s perfect for his purpose. Everything is even easier than he thought. It’s destiny, he thinks. It’s justice, for him, for what Dean did to him. Usually, he takes a lot more time before taking his victims. But today he can’t wait. That Lisa whore deserves it. She’s going to die. Tonight. And Dean is going to watch.

He waits for the night to fall, until it’s late enough that even Dean starts worrying about him, calling from the landline, leaving voicemail after voicemail demanding to know where Castiel is. Castiel ignores him, takes Dean’s phone from his pocket and sends Lisa a text.

‘ _Need you. Can you come pick me up?_ ’

He adds the address of the motel, hits send, and waits. Lisa’s reply is quick to come. She asks what’s wrong, once, twice, then tries to call. Castiel lets the calls go to voicemail. He got her, he knows. It won’t be long before she shows up. When she does, he’s hidden into a corner of the lobby, in the dark. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t hear him. He stuns her, takes her to one of the room on the third floor, takes off her clothes, leaving her underwear and bra on, and ties her up to a chair, her back to the door.

He feels a little bit better, already, knowing he got her. And nothing went wrong. He dials the landline of his home, waiting.

“ _Hello?”_

“Dean.”

“ _Fuck, Cas! Where were you? I called you a hundred times!_ ”

Castiel almost laughs. Instead, he fakes a cough, take a supplicant tone.

“Dean, help me!”

“ _Wha—_ “

But he hangs up before Dean has time to say anything. They have a GPS system on their phone, that Dean knows how to use. He’ll find Castiel. Now, all Castiel has to do is wait. He sits on the edge of the dusty queen bed, in front of Lisa. It takes her about fifteen minutes to wake up. When she does, Castiel gags her. She notices his special suitcase that he puts on a table, on her right. Smiling, he takes one of Dean’s favorite knife out of it, and goes back to sit on the bed. She starts crying. He’s enjoying himself.

Dean gets here after forty minutes. Castiel hears him yell his name as he comes close, crashing open all the doors until he gets to this one. When he opens it, he freezes, taking in the scene, gun in hand, pointed a little above Castiel’s head.

“Cas,” he breathes, lowering his gun.

Hearing his voice, Lisa tries to turn around, calling his name under the gag. Dean’s eyes widen when he recognizes her.

“Cas, what are you doing?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Dean?” Castiel asks instead of answering.

He keeps his voice pleasant, keeps a smile on his face. He can see Dean’s face blanch with terror, can almost hear the frantic beating of his heart as he’s trying to take everything in.

“Please, Cas, you can’t do this…”

“I asked you a question, Dean, I’d like you to answer.”

Dean blinks. “N-No, Cas. I don’t think you’re stupid.”

He’s cautious, now, taking step after step toward Castiel, as if he’s a dangerous animal.

“Then why did you sleep with her?” Castiel asks, pointing the knife at Lisa. She whimpers.  

Dean huffs a laugh. “I didn’t—“

“DON’T LIE TO ME!”

Startled, Dean opens his mouth but freezes. He blinks, and seems to come back to life, shoulders sagging down in defeat.

“Alright, Cas. I’m sorry. I was pissed. I didn’t think.” He takes another step forward, entering Castiel’s personal space with his hands raised in a placating gesture. “But you know I love you,” he whispers, head tilted on the side. “Right? You’re the only one I care about.”

Castiel pushes him away. Violently.

“Cas!”

“Kiss her.”

The look of bewilderment on Dean’s face is priceless.

“What?”

“Kiss her,” Castiel repeats. “Or I take out one of her eyes.”

Lisa goes crazy, screaming behind the gag. Dean loses his focus on Castiel, a hand shooting up, hovering over her head like he doesn’t know if he should touch her or not.

“It’s okay, Lis,” Dean shushes her. “It’s fine, a’ight? Just…”

He’s panicking, Castiel sees. His heart leaps in his chest, and it feels like a mix between heartbreak and excitement. “Do it.”

“Alright, okay, Cas, chill…” he turns to Lisa, and his eyes go wild. Kneeling next to her chair, he gently puts his hand on her bare knee. She jumps, staring at him wide eyed. She’s crying. “It’s gonna be fine,” he breathes. “Don’t scream, okay? Please, Lis.”

With trembling hands, he reaches for the gag, pulling it out of her mouth slowly.

“Shhh,” he whispers again.

She whimpers, her whole body shaking with fear, but she keeps her mouth closed, eyes never leaving Dean’s face.  He leans over and kisses her, and Castiel’s eyes can’t leave their mouths as they slot together.

Dean’s gaze turns to him, knowing. He’s not pleading, he knows there’s no use. The moonlight reflects on the edge of Castiel’s knife, its glint mirrored into the white of Dean’s eyes. The kiss only lasts a few seconds, but it feels longer than that. For all of them.

When Dean pulls back, a tear runs down Lisa’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, two chapters in a row! I know! But the one before this one was very short, so I thought i'd give you more this time. Plus, I had a very crappy week (who said working in the movie industry was fun? It's only fun when you haven't been working for a while and don't remember the sleepless nights and the ungrateful directors who think they can give you shit when you're working for free *sigh*), so any comments, any little thought will be greatly appreciated. Thanks peeps!


	7. Intermission

“You know it’s been ten years, today?”

Victor looks up from his files, blinking the sleepiness away. Pam is staring at him, bags under her eyes. They’ve been at this for hours. Sun rose, and went down, and it’s been dark for a long while, now. He doesn’t know what time it is.

“Sorry?”

“This case,” Pam insists, tapping one of the files with her index finger, “We’ve been following it for ten years. Today.” She grins, tiredly. “Happy Anniversary, Honey.”

Victor grimaces. “Sorry, I didn’t buy you anything,” he jokes.

She shakes her head, then looks down at her laptop, thoughtful. She’s still smiling, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I just hope we won’t spend another ten years on it…”

Humming, Victor pulls out the pictures from the last crime scene they uncovered. Same M.O. Plus, the victim’s type is consistent with all the murders they’ve been following around the country. But this time it looks… personal, somehow.

Pam tsks, annoyed, “Why does this name ring a bell?”

“What name?”

“Dean Winchester. He was the vic’s… bed warmer, I guess.”

“Maybe he has a record?”

Pam shakes her head. “No. I mean…” she clicks on something Victor can’t see. “When he was four or five, his house caught on fire. He was playing with his dad’s lighter and wanted to see if the curtains would catch.” She looks up, “Doesn’t mean he started killing people after that, though.”

“You’re just tired,” Vic tries. She looks like she’s about to keel over and die. “You should sleep.”

“No,” she says, eyes snapping up to his face. “I’m telling you, I saw his name. Related to this case. It’s in one of the files, I’m sure of it!”

Victor considers it. Maybe she is tired. Or maybe she’s right. She usually is. It’s like she’s got a sixth sense or something. “Okay.”

“We should check out the files again.”

“All of them?”

“Yes,” she says, decisively. No room for arguments.

“I hate you,” Victor mumbles.

She grins. “But you’ll love me if we find something!”

“You’d better hope we do…”

-_-_-_-_-

 

Three hours later, Pam laughs, startling Victor who’s about to fall asleep head first into the file he’s trying to read.

Victor squints at her, “What?”

“I found it,” she says, and she looks like she can’t believe it herself. “I found the name. Fuck me!”

If there’s even a slight chance that this Winchester guy is important, he’d rather hear now so they can finally get some sleep. “Spill,” he almost barks.

“Here,” she slides the file she was reading toward him, and scoots closer, dragging her chair along with her. “Remember our very first murder on this case? Rhonda Hurley?” Victor nods. “Guess who her boyfriend was at the time,” she goes on. It’s not a question. They both know it.

“Dean Winchester,” Victor lets out, leaning back in his seat. He can’t believe it.

“We found him, Vic,” Pam whispers.

“I…” he runs a hand over his mouth. “There’s two of them. We established that. Some wounds were too different, he has to have a partner.” He reads Dean’s statement again. “It doesn’t make sense… why would he kill his girlfriends?”

“Maybe his partner is his actual girlfriend,” Pam starts, slowly as she thinks, “and sometimes he deviates, goes to see the sights, you know? So she… punishes him.” She shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“Rhonda’s murder was messy but the wounds were clinical. Simple,” Vic says. He quickly eyes the forensic report, “this one was done by a single person.”

“Lisa Braeden’s murder was more than clinical, too,” Pam muses. “Like, almost surgically perfect. No evidence of the second killer on that one.”

“We already know all that,” Victor breathes. “Doesn’t tell us what it has to do with Winchester. And why those two murders are different.”

Pam reaches for her laptop and starts typing quickly. Victor is content to just watch her work. She’s good with the FBI data base. It was never his thing.

“Okay, so… he lives in the area where Braeden was killed… the lease for his apartment is under two names,” she chews on her lower lip, “Dean Winchester and a Castiel Milton.”

Good. This is good. Probably Winchester’s partner, then. “Who’s she?”

Pam huffs, mouth opening in surprise. “Castiel… is a guy.”

“So, a roommate, then. Best friend, maybe?”

Pam frowns as she types something else, fingers tapping impatiently on the keys. “They were in high school together. Same year, but they don’t seem to have crossed paths…” She reads what’s on her screen, eyes moving so fast Victor wonders if she’s really understanding what she’s reading. “Fuck! They lived on the same street!”

“So, best friends,” Victor says again.

“Or lovers,” Pam suggests, looking up. Victor raises an eyebrow at her. “Come on, it makes more sense,” she continues, “They fuck in secret. When Dean’s missing the taste of pussy, Castiel punishes the girl. And Dean at the same time.”

“I’m… not sure…”

Pam turns the laptop toward him so he can see the screen, “Castiel was pre-med for a couple of years,” she adds, triumphantly.

Fuck. It all adds up. Victor is silent for a moment, almost dizzy with the realization that, it’s happening, they found the killers. “We found them.”

“We found them,” Pam laughs. “Now all we need is some proof.”

Shaking his head, Victor can’t help smiling. His face is hurting, Christ. “Don’t worry. We’ll get some.”


	8. PƋrt Ϩ: Ŧ ʅɇƧh

##  **PƋrt Ϩ: Ŧ ʅɇƧh**

 

**Dean is quiet.**

Too quiet, even for Cas’s taste, but at least it means he learned his lesson.

They don’t make love that morning, when they come back from the abandoned hotel. They don’t make love for the three days after that either. There’s a quiet rage building inside of Castiel, itching under his skin. This is all Dean’s fault, and he’s the one brooding? Dean cheated on him, and now Cas is the villain? Cas can’t wrap his head around this. True, he doesn’t feel attached to people the way most people do. The way Dean does. Dean liked Lisa. He hurts for Ben. But is it Castiel’s fault if Dean decided to go put his dick in someone else’s hole?

He keeps thinking about it, and thinking about it, until he’s almost ready to shout at Dean, to claw his face out.

No, not that. Never that. He could never hurt Dean this way. He could never take Dean’s beauty from him. But he wants to hurt him. Oh, how he wants to hurt Dean. To make him understand this is all _his_ fault.

His train of thought is interrupted on the fourth morning by someone knocking violently at the door. They never have visitors and so Castiel is more than wary when he opens the door. He’s greeted by two people, a tall, black guy with what looks like a permanent look of scorn on his face, and a short brunette lady, both wearing a suit.

The black guy raises an eyebrow at him. “Mr. Milton?”

Castiel nods.

“Agent Henriksen and Agent Barnes, FBI,” the guy says, showing off his badge. “Do you mind if we come in?”

Cas has to think quickly. Dean is in bed, still sleeping. So if he has to wake him up, it’s going to take him by surprise. But maybe that’s a good thing. Or not. He can’t be sure. He needs Dean to hear them, and wake up. Now.

Castiel eyes agent Henriksen. “What’s this about?”

“We’d rather talk about it inside, Sir,” the lady, Agent Barnes, says.

So, she’s the good cop. He nods, stepping back to let them in. He has no other choice anyway. They found Lisa, he’s sure of it.

“Please, sit,” he tells them, waving toward the couch. He takes the armchair next to it, turning to them. “What can I do for you?”

Henriksen looks around. “Where’s you roommate?”

“My boyfriend,” Castiel corrects. “He’s sleeping.”

“Would you mind waking him up,” Agent Barnes asks, softly. “It won’t take long, but we need you both for this.”

Castiel tries to look taken aback, suspicious. Like he’s thinking, _what is this all about_? And he nods warily, unfolding his body from the armchair as if he doesn’t want to, as if he wasn’t waiting for the opportunity to tell Dean what’s happening before he realizes it all by himself and starts panicking.

_There’s nothing to panic about, really_ , Cas thinks as he walks toward their bedroom. The police could never link them to anything. And even if they did, they’re both smarter than them. Than anyone. They’d find a way to escape the cops’ reach.

Sitting slowly on the edge of the bed so as to not startle Dean, he leans over him, hand coming up to run his thumb on Dean’s lower lip.

“Dean,” he breathes.

He waits, patiently, until Dean blinks, sleep clogging his features. “Wha’s’it?”

“Nothing bad,” Castiel smiles. Dean groans, and rolls on his back, away from Castiel’s hand. Cas’s heart flutters in his chest, hurt, but he doesn’t comment, dropping his hand in his lap instead. “The FBI is here.” This makes Dean stop, eyes opening wide. He’s fully awake, now. “They want to talk to us.”

“Shit,” Dean whispers, running a hand over his face. “Shit. What do we do?”

“We don’t panic. We answer their questions, just like we talked about, okay?”

“Cas…”

“I can’t stay too long, they’ll grow suspicious.” He bends over, taking advantage of Dean’s state of surprise to drop a chaste kiss on his lips. “Hurry. We can’t have them in here for too long.”

He ignores the frown of disapproval on Dean’s lips, ignores the way his mouth opens to protest. He’s out of the bedroom and back with the agents as quickly as he can.

“He’s getting dressed, he’ll be here soon,” Castiel tells the agents as he walks to the couch. “Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea?”

“No,” Agent Barnes shakes her head, “thank you. Please, sit.”

This has Castiel start slightly and stop for a second, making him forget he’s not supposed to know what they’re here for, not supposed to hate them. She’s telling him to sit, in his own home? He barely holds a snort, and does as she tells him, sitting back in his armchair.

A minute or so later, Dean emerges from his room, wearing some old pajama pants and a Motorhead t-shirt, blinking like he’s not really awake and scratching the back of his head.

“Uh, hi,” he says, taking in the scene.

“Agent Henriksen and Barnes,” Barnes says, smiling.

Dean goes straight to Cas, offering them a small, confused smile. “FBI, huh? To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Good. This is good. He’s playing his part, which, if Cas is honest with himself, is something he wasn’t sure Dean would do. He’s angry at Castiel. Ever since that day, he’s been angry, and miserable. Castiel sees it in the way Dean avoids his touch like the plague, in how he stopped smiling and instead replaced the special smile and look of adoration with a sneer of disgust every time Cas tries to reason with him.

Dean sits on the arm of the chair, close to Castiel.

“We’re sorry to be the ones to inform you that Lisa Braeden died about three or four days ago,” Barnes lets out with a sigh.

She’s good. She’s a good actress. She looks really sorry, and gives them a sympathetic smile, like she knows what they’re going through, like Lisa is one of their long-time friends.

Henriksen keeps silent, but his eyes are trained on Dean.

Castiel chooses to frown in distress. “Lisa Braeden?”

“She’s…” Dean starts at the same time. Castiel turns to him, slightly impressed by how well he’s playing his part. His eyes are filling with tears, and his hand comes up slowly to cover his mouth. “How… wh-what happened? What about Ben? Is he okay?” And now he looks downright manic, eyes open wide, gaze flickering between the two agents.

At the mention of Ben, Castiel shifts his position and slides closer to Dean. “Dean,” he soothes him, running his hand on his back.

“Ben is fine,” Barnes goes on. “Lisa’s been murdered. The M.O. is consistent with several murders all across the country that we’ve been following for a while, now.”

“Jesus Christ…” Dean murmurs, bowing his head.

The two agents keep looking at them, one in sympathy, the other suspiciously, waiting. Like a predator stalking a prey.

Castiel glances between the two. “I’m sorry but… what does this have to do with us?”

The flash of hurt on his face is barely faked.

“Well…” Barnes starts.

“Mr. Winchester was… very well acquainted with her,” Henriksen finishes for her.

Dean looks up, startled. The tears running down his cheeks are real, Cas knows that. He’s shaking, too. Out of fear? Disgust that Castiel is touching him, maybe?

“I know that Dean slept with her,” Castiel answers, bluntly. There’s no need to pretend nothing happened.

The agents exchange a look. Henriksen raises his eyebrows in surprise. “So you admit you had motive to go after her.”

Castiel huffs, frustrated. “It happens to a lot of people. Doesn’t mean I decided to take revenge for myself.” He shakes his head, and turns to Dean. “I… saw them together. We talked about it. We’re… working through it.”

“You saw them,” Henriksen goes on. “And what? You confronted them? Confronted her?”

“No.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I just…” Castiel eyes Dean, who’s keeping his gaze locked on the floor, seemingly lost in grief. “I watched… them. And I, I just went home. I couldn’t… what could I do? I was devastated!”

The fact that this is all true, that Dean doesn’t know, that they actually never talked about it occurs to him just now, making him blush. He doesn’t try to hide it. It’ll help them.

Henriksen doesn’t look convinced. “You watched them?”

“Yes,” Castiel answers, sheepishly. “I… we had a fight a few hours before and so I followed Dean when he stormed out. I just… I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”

Humming, Henriksen turns to his partner. She nods to Cas, like she understands. “So what happened next?”

Castiel glances toward Dean. He’s still not moving. “I… waited until Dean got home. And we… talked. Yelled. You can imagine what happened…”

He thinks about the cellphone’s GPS, that he used to bring Dean to the abandoned hotel. To him. He hopes that what he did to prevent the police from finding this particular piece of information will work. He doesn’t know much about technology, but he’s smart enough that he taught himself a few things. And in the days that followed Lisa’s death, he turned himself into a computer genius.

Despite that, however, he starts sweating. He holds Dean tighter, trying to wipe the sweat off his palms on Dean’s shirt.

“Mr. Winchester…” Barnes starts. “Dean?”

Dean looks up, eyes red and puffy. He sniffs before he opens his mouth. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she goes on. “Tell me, how did you know Lisa?”

Huffing, Dean shrugs Castiel’s hand off his shoulder. Henriksen sees it. “I… we… she’s… _was_ , a friend of a friend. Someone I work with. She often co—came to the coffee shop I work at.”

“And you stayed in contact?”

“Not really,” Dean breathes, shaking his head, “we met at the grocery store a couple months ago… she… uh, I still had her number, and when Cas and I fought… I…” he trails off, looking in the distance.

“Alright,” Barnes says, gentle. “We won’t bother you any longer. Thank you for your time.” She stands up, followed by Henriksen, who keeps watching Cas like a hawk. “If you ever remember anything that you think is important, call us,” she adds, handing Castiel her card.

He takes it, nods, standing up and showing them to the door. As soon as he closes it behind them, Dean lets out a sob. Castiel is by his side, kneeling in front of the chair in a second.

“They don’t have anything. There’s no reason to be scared, Dean, we—“

Dean pushes him away, and he lands on his ass. “Fuck off!” He stands, violently, stepping away from Cas. “You ruined everything,” he growls, “with your stupid cravings! You’re a fucking psychopath, Cas, that’s what you are!!”

Slowly, Castiel turns to him, pushing himself up. “And you’re an arsonist,” he answers, cold. His heart is beating hard against his ribcage. It hurts. “What does it have to do with anything?”

“We could’ve let her go,” Dean whispers angrily, like he’s scared the FBI agents are still here, trying to listen to their conversation through the door, “You didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I did, Dean, and you know it,” Cas replies in the same tone. “I had her. She would’ve gone to the police, and then what? You’d have let them take me?”

“You killed her.”

“You slept with her!!”

“And so what? Huh?” Dean takes a step toward him, menacing. “Why do you care? I’m not enough, for you. I’m never enough! The only times you truly want me is when we kill together. It’s the only way you can get off and you know it!!”

“That’s not true.”

Dean snorts. Castiel runs a hand through his hair. He needs Dean to understand that all he does, everything he’s done since he’s four has been for him. “I love you,” he tries. And he sounds a little too desperate, even to his own ears.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that I do you, anymore,” Dean answers, quiet.

“You’re just saying that because you’re angry,” Cas counters.

“I am. I’m angry, because you killed someone I _liked_ for no reason.”

“SHE TOOK YOU AWAY FROM ME,” Cas roars.

He can’t hold it back, Dean doesn’t understand, and it’s killing him. Dean lets out a frustrated groan, grabbing Cas by the hem of his shirt.  “I’m not your fucking thing, Cas!! Goddamit!!” His eyes bore into Cas’s very soul. “People aren’t yours to toy with! You could’ve talked to me, you could’ve yelled at me or, hell, you could’ve beaten the shit out of me! That’s what normal people do!”

And there they are, the tears. They fill Castiel’s eyes, blurring his vision. He wants to hold them back, to hide how weak he is when it comes to Dean, but he can’t. “I’m not normal,” he says. And somehow, he sounds like his young self. “I was never normal. And you were like me. You… you still are, sometimes. I can’t lose you because if I do, I’ll…” 

“Cas…”

“I can’t lose you, please. I’ll die if you leave me.”

Dean’s grip on his shirt loosens, and he looks down. “You can’t… Cas, you can’t say shit like that. You can’t hold that against me. That’ll just make me hate you.” He looks back up into Castiel’s eyes. “I can’t take this anymore. I can’t.”

Cas exhales, slowly, inhales again, to try and calm himself. A tear rolls down his cheek and he wipes it away. “Fine,” he finally manages. “Fine. I… if you want to… uhm…” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “If you want to take a break, fine. I can… go to Gabriel’s. Leave you alone for a time. But I can’t do it now or the FBI will get suspicious.”

Dean nods, stepping away. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Fine.”

“A week, and then you leave.”

“Okay.”

With that, Dean nods, satisfied, and goes back to bed.

The week that follows is hard to live through for Cas. Dean doesn’t talk to him, just goes to work, comes back, avoids Castiel as much as he can. Their small apartment is filled with silence, and the occasional rambling coming from the TV.

The day Castiel has to leave comes way too quickly for his taste. He’s packed and ready to go by noon. He tries to find things to do to delay the moment he’ll have to step out the door, but can’t find anything else to do. That’s it, then.

It’s Dean’s day off, oddly. A coincidence that sits badly with Cas. Almost as if Dean took the day off for the pleasure of watching him leave. He dares hoping that Dean doesn’t hate him that much.

“I’m… ready to leave,” he says, approaching the couch where Dean’s sprawled, watching some mindless TV show.

Dean just hums in answer, not turning around.

Castiel sighs. “You’re not going to say goodbye?”

Dean finally looks up at him, disinterested. “Bye,” he lets out, and goes back to watching TV.

Castiel’s heart misses a beat, but he doesn’t comment. He turns around, grabs his suitcase, and walks out the door.

-_-_-_-_-

 

Living with Gabriel is a whole new ordeal in itself. Castiel’s brother is a mess, to put it mildly. His apartment is dirty, half empty take-out boxes and beer bottles scattered everywhere, dirty laundry in every corner of the place, and to top it off, it smells. Gabriel refuses to open his blinds, like he’s scared someone will see him if he dares to open a window. And Castiel doesn’t have the strength to tidy everything up. So he spends his days on the couch, moping. About Dean, mostly.

“He’ll come around,” Gabriel says, annoyed. “Stop whining and do something!”

Castiel snorts. “You can talk…”

“I’m complaining about real problems,” Gabriel counters, standing from his place next to Cas. “Money! Work! You know, those things normal people worry about!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Castiel spits, suddenly angry. His heart speeds up. “Isn’t that what Michael’s for? Don’t you have to go suck his cock or something?”

Gabriel freezes, cheeks turning red. It’s cruel, and Cas knows it. But nobody talks about his relationship with Dean like it’s nothing. Gabriel doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Fuck you, Cas,” Gabriel sneers.

Furious, he grabs his coat, and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

It takes a couple of hours for Cas to find the willpower to get up from the couch, and do something after that. He feels badly, now, the feeling almost foreign and unsettling. He decides he’s going to do something nice for Gabriel, to show he’s sorry, he didn’t really mean what he said. And he’ll explain. He’ll tell his brother he’s just lost, and confused, and so, so in love with Dean that the thought of never seeing him again feels like a knife to his heart.

He methodically cleans the whole living room. It’s soothing, in a way, and when he’s done he feels suddenly empty. So, he thinks, maybe he can clean Gabriel’s room as well. And the bathroom. If he still feels like it afterwards. Yes.

Stepping into his brother’s room is a bit like entering a mine field. There’s so much shit on the floor that Cas has trouble pushing the door open. It’s even darker than the living room. There’s not much furniture, besides a bed, a table that passes as a desk and a small chest of drawers. Most of Gabriel’s clothes are on the floor, anyway.

Castiel looks around, wondering where to start first, when he notices the laptop on Gabriel’s desk. He shouldn’t pry, he knows, but Gabriel spends so much time in here… it must be what he’s doing. Castiel sometimes hears him watching porn, which is not a surprise. But on other occasions, Gabriel locks himself in his room, puts some loud music on, and doesn’t come out for hours. When he does, he looks exhausted, eyes puffy and red. Castiel always wonders what he was doing, during the short week he’s been staying here.

As Dean would say, what the hell? He’s entitled to know what his brother does that has him crying his eyes out. Maybe he could help, he thinks to justify his snooping.

The guilt is easy to forget once he’s sitting in front of the computer, and starts looking through it. An email catches his eye. Sent by Michael, to Gabriel. Interesting. He clicks it open, going to the bottom of it, to read the full conversation.

 

From: Gabriel M. ([lazybast3rd@gmail.com](mailto:lazybast3rd@gmail.com))

Subject: I quit

> Mikey,
> 
> I’m looking for a job. I just can’t do it anymore. You have Anna, and now you’re about to get married. I can’t do that to her. I’m sorry.
> 
> Just wanted to let you know.
> 
> Gabe
> 
>  
> 
>  

From: Michael Milton (miltonm@adler.com)

Subject: (RE) I quit

> I don’t care. Who told you you could start looking for a job? Whatever you find, you won’t be able to pay for all your expenses. Have you seen how much you spend in a month? Do you even know how much your rent costs? You won’t be able to make it without me.
> 
> Anna is fine as long as she doesn’t find out. Don’t you dare leave me now, Gabriel.
> 
> We’ll talk about it next time we see each other.
> 
> Until then, don’t be a child. It’s for your own good.
> 
> Michael Milton  
>  Attorney at Law  
>  Adler & Partners  
>  (212) 555-3411  
>  [miltonm@adler.com](mailto:miltonm@adler.com)

 

 

  

From: Gabriel M. ([lazybast3rd@gmail.com](mailto:lazybast3rd@gmail.com))

Subject: (RE) I quit

> I’ll be okay, I swear. I found something. I’ll probably have to find something else to make ends meet but I’m good, I swear. Please, Michael, we need to end this. It’s not healthy. You’re a lawyer, for Pete’s sake, you know we can’t do this!
> 
> Please, just let me go. I’m begging you.
> 
> I love you, Bro, but I can’t do it anymore.
> 
> Gabe.

 

 

From: Michael Milton (miltonm@adler.com)

Subject: (RE) I quit

> I’ve seen what you found. You’re a cam boy, now? Seriously, Gabriel? Exposing yourself on the internet, that’s all you found to make money? You disgust me.
> 
> Stop this at once. You don’t need it. You have me. Stop pretending you don’t like it.
> 
> Michael Milton  
>  Attorney at Law  
>  Adler & Partners  
>  (212) 555-3411  
>  [miltonm@adler.com](mailto:miltonm@adler.com)

 

From: Gabriel M. ([lazybast3rd@gmail.com](mailto:lazybast3rd@gmail.com))

Subject: (RE) I quit

 

> I do. God help me, I do like it. That’s why it needs to stop. It’s wrong, and it’s killing me.

 

 

From: Michael Milton (miltonm@adler.com)

Subject: (RE) I quit  
 **Attached: 00062541.mp4**

> Remember your place. I won’t talk about this any longer.
> 
> Be home tonight @11
> 
> Michael Milton  
>  Attorney at Law  
>  Adler & Partners  
>  (212) 555-3411  
>  [miltonm@adler.com](mailto:miltonm@adler.com)
> 
>  
> 
>  

Castiel sits back, more than curious, now. He sees the attachment on the last email, and searches for Gabriel’s download folder. In two clicks he finds it, and the video that was sent by Michael along with it.

He hesitates. Should he watch it? There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a trepidation so powerful it’s almost making him nauseous. But he wants to know. He has to know.

He opens it, holding his breath.

It’s an old video, ripped from a VHS tape, it seems. There are lines on the video, and the image jumps sometimes, as if the tape has been kept for a long time without proper care and was a bit damaged at the time it was transferred to a digital format.

The image is dark, dirty. Castiel recognizes the basement of his old home, and his heart skips a beat. There’s an old mattress in the middle of the frame. Castiel can hear someone moving.

A man’s voice, gruff and loud, resonates in the small basement. “Gabriel, what did we say?”

“I don’t feel like it…” a child’s voice answer.

“Who said you had a choice?”

“Come on Gabie, it’ll be fine,” another childish voice says.

There’s a lump in Castiel’s throat, preventing him from breathing properly. The man’s voice must be their father. Then there’s Gabriel, and…

Michael appears on screen, just as Castiel remembers him from some old pictures he’d seen. He’s must be eight or nine, dangly limbs flopping excitedly around him. He disappears from the frame, and comes back, pulling a very young Gabriel by the hand. God. Gabriel must have been, what? Five, six years old? Castiel watches as he tugs on his fingers, nervous, his too-long hair falling in front of his eyes, hiding his face. 

“Dad, please,” Gabriel tries. He looks so shy, it breaks Castiel’s heart. “I don’t wanna.”

“Do I need to discipline you so you’ll do what you’re told?”

Gabriel shakes his head, and a small sob leaves his mouth.

“Don’t cry,” Michael tells him. “You like this game. You told me you did.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer, instead shaking his head again.

“Take off your clothes,” their dad says.

Castiel would give anything to see his face. But he’s not moving from his spot behind the camera, so it seems.

Michael does what their father tells them, almost gleefully. Gabriel doesn’t move. So Michael walks over to him, completely naked, and starts helping him out of his shirt.

“I wanna do it to Michael this time,” Gabriel finally says. There’s a glint of defiance in his eyes. “Why’s it always him doin’ it to me?”

“ ‘cause I’m the oldest,” Michael answers like Gabriel is being unreasonable. “It’ll be your turn when Cassie’s older. You can do it to him, then.”

“You know,” Gabriel’s voice, his very adult voice, says from behind Castiel. Cas turns around, jumping, heart beating frantically against his chest from having been caught. “If I’m honest with you,” Gabriel goes on, “I actually looked forward to that at the time.”

Castiel fumbles with the computer mouse until the video finally stops. “I, I’m sorry, Gabriel, I didn’t mean to pry, I, I was—“

“Cut the crap, Kiddo,” Gabriel sneers. His expression his hard, shoulders set in a hard line, arms crossed against his chest, “watch it, don’t watch it. I don’t care.” He takes a step back, letting his arms fall at his sides. “Have fun,” he whispers, leaving the room.

Castiel stays where he is, frozen. Hate for Michael and fear for Gabriel taking over, then, making his head spin. He needs to do something. But first, he needs Dean.


	9. PƋrt Ί: ϝɨƦɘ

##  **PƋrt Ί: ϝɨƦɘ**

 

**“ _What do you want?_ ”**

“Dean,” Castiel breathes into the phone, relief coursing through him. “I… I need you, I’m sorry. I can’t—“

“ _I’m hanging up in five seconds._ ”

Castiel looks up to the bathroom ceiling, from where he’s sitting, on the closed lid of the toilet. “It’s about Michael,” he whispers.

Gabriel’s here, and hasn’t left the apartment in a couple of days. Castiel doesn’t want to alarm him. And he certainly doesn’t want him to know that Dean knows about Gabriel and Michael.

Dean sighs on the other end of the phone, and Castiel hears him sit. “What happened?”

“Gabriel told him they were over,” Cas keeps his voice low, “Michael refused to let him go and he… he sent a video of them. When they were little. Something my dad filmed.”

“ _Christ…_ ” Dean lets out. There’s a moment of silence, and then, “ _What can I do about it, though?_ ”

Castiel runs a hand through his hair. “Michael knows I’m here, he thinks it’s my fault. He… invited Gabriel, my mother and me to his place. For dinner. Tomorrow evening.”

“ _And you want me to go with you…_ ”

Castiel nods, before he remembers Dean can’t see him. “Yes. Please. I can’t do it alone.” He takes a shuddering breath, “what if Michael wants me to… replace Gabriel?”

“ _That sonuvabitch better not even try to think about it,_ ” Dean growls.

Castiel’s heart seems to leap at the sound. So Dean does care… a little. “You’re coming, then?”

Dean huffs, and Castiel can almost see the expression on his face as he tries not to give in. “ _Yeah_ ,” he finally says. “ _Yeah. I’ll be there. But that don’t mean we’re good, alright?_ ”

“I understand,” Castiel answers. But despite everything, he’s smiling. He’s going to see Dean again. “Thank you.”

“ _Alright… I got stuff to do, so… bye, Cas_.”

“Good bye, Dean. See you tomorrow.”

“ _Yeah_.”

With that, Dean hangs up, but Cas isn’t scared anymore. This is exactly what they needed to bring them back together.

When he exits the bathroom, he hears the now familiar sound of the video playing in the distance. Gabriel’s watching it again.

“Hold still, Gabie,” Castiel hears young Michael say as he tip-toes towards Gabriel’s room. Nausea overcomes him again, but he keeps walking.

“I’m trying,” comes young Gabriel’s voice, shaking with a barely held back sob. “It hurts.”

“It’s because you keep moving,” Michael answers. “Stop it!”

Castiel stops at the door, trying to brace himself. He’s going to see some images he doesn’t want to see, but he needs to haul Gabriel out of his daze.

With a decisive nod, he steps inside, walking straight to Gabriel who’s hunched on his chair, knees to his chin and arms around his legs, watching the tiny screen of his laptop with haunted eyes. He gets a glimpse of his brothers, buck naked, Michael preparing to take Gabriel before he reaches the laptop and slams it shut.

“Stop it,” he snaps, realizing too late he’s echoing Michael’s words in the video.

Gabriel looks up at him, eyes red like he’s been holding back tears.

“Gabriel,” Castiel lowers his voice, trying to sound reassuring. He crouches down next to his brother. “This won’t do you any good, watching this all day. It happened. But you’re getting out of it, now, alright? I’ll help you.”

“You can’t do anything,” Gabriel whispers.

And the half-truth of that statement hits Cas like a freight-train.

-_-_-_-_-

Castiel’s never been so nervous in his life. Being here, standing in the private corridor of Michael’s luxurious New York apartment, with Dean by his side, is making him more anxious that anything else he did in his twenty-four years on this Earth. And it includes killing people. But _that_ he does for fun, he thinks, as he lifts his hand and rings the doorbell.

Dean hasn’t talked to him ever since Castiel picked him up from the train station, but it’s all for the best. Castiel would rather he keeps his wits for Michael, to prevent him from harming Gabriel even more than he already does.

The door’s open by Anna, who smiles brightly at them as she motions them into the foyer.

“Castiel,” she greets, hugging him as if they were long-time friends, “I’m so happy to meet you!” She turns to Dean as he follows Cas inside. “And you are?”

Castiel slides his arm around Dean’s waist, and smiles his brightest, fakest smile. “Anna, this is Dean. My boyfriend.”

Her smile flinches at the word, but she’s quick to hide it. “Ah. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dean.”

Interesting…

Dean just smiles back charmingly at her, and so she turns around. “If you’ll please follow me,” she goes on, smile back in place, “everyone’s already here.”

She leads them out of the sober looking foyer into a giant living room, with floor-to-ceiling windows framing a view of New York’s brightly lit night. Dean eyes the white walls lined with black and white photographs of urban scenery, and the black furniture with disdain. As for Castiel, he’s too busy taking in the scene unfolding before his eyes to pay any attention to the décor.

Gabriel, Michael, and their mother are standing in front of the windows. Gabriel is hunched over himself, a bottle of beer in hand, eyes trained on the floor as he listens to something Michael is telling their mother. Michael turns to him, hand flying up to Gabriel’s shoulder, squeezing. Gabriel doesn’t move. Not even when Michael leans over to him and whispers something in his ear. The only thing he does is close his eyes like he’s praying for strength. Castiel sees red.

But he doesn’t have time to say anything because Michael saw them coming in and he looks up, a shark-like smile illuminating his face. “Cassie!”

Castiel walks toward him. “You know I hate it when you call me that,” he says as a manner of greeting. He nods to his mother, “Grace.”

He hasn’t called her ‘mother’ since he found out about Gabriel and Michael. She knows, the bitch. She still acts like nothing’s wrong, though. Michael ignores him, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow at Dean.

“My! If it isn’t Dean Winchester,” he grins, holding out a hand. “How have you been?”

“Michael,” Dean answers, taking his hand, “long time no see.”

“Winchester,” Grace interrupts, smoothing one of her blond lock before opening her eyes in fake-recognition, “little Dean who lived across the street?” Dean nods to her with a small smile. “Come and give me a kiss!”

Castiel wants to throw up. He smiles as he watches his mother hug Dean.

“Mrs. Milton, hello,” Dean says, like the gentleman that he is.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you,” she exclaims, “do call me Grace,” unaware that everyone’s looking at her. “I didn’t know you and Cassie were still in contact!”

“We live together,” Castiel huffs, slightly annoyed.

She knows this.

“Oh,” Grace just says. “How come?”

Seriously? Dean turns to him, gaze questioning. “We’re together,” Castiel snaps.

Silence falls on them all. Gabriel looks up, arching an eyebrow like something interesting is finally happening and he can’t wait to see where this is going.

Grace doesn’t lose her smile. “In the same school? That’s nice.”

“No, Grace,” Dean chimes in, sounding way more excited than he should be. He wraps an arm around Castiel’s shoulder, “We’re _together_ , together. We kiss on the mouth, sleep in the same bed and occasionally we fu—“

“I think she got it,” Castiel cuts him off.

The smile is gone from Grace’s face. She doesn’t say anything for a second, and it feels like everyone in the room is holding their breath. Finally, she scolds Castiel. “You’re a fag?”

_Oh, great_ , Castiel thinks. This is going to be a great evening.

-_-_-_-_-

The coldness that settles after Castiel unexpectedly came out to his mother is hard to shake off, but they do try. Michael is not helping, though.

He’s leaning back in his chair as he looks around the dining table where they’re all sitting. Anna just brought enough food to feed a small family for at least a week. Dean’s seated next to Cas. In front of them are Grace and Gabriel, and, at each end, there’s Anna’s seat, on Grace’s side, and Michael, on Gabriel’s. Of course.

Anna finishes serving them, and goes to take her place.

“So,” Michael grins, taking his fork and knife in hand. “I always wondered…” he eyes Dean and Castiel in turn. “Who’s the woman? From what I heard it’s never the one we usually suspect…”

Castiel blushes furiously and looks at the steak on his plate.

“Yeah,” Dean drawls, a charming smile on his lips, “it’s usually the controlling one who likes to take it up the ass.” He ignores Grace’s exclamation of horror. “You know the type, wears suits every day, works for a big old corporation, gives orders all day… but when he gets home, he like to get on his knees and suck some dick.”

“Really,” Michael asks like he doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about.

“But again,” Dean goes on, “we’ve never been very traditional, Cas and I.” He turns to Castiel, “right, Honey?”

“Dean…”

“But to answer your question, that’s me. I’m the woman,” Dean says happily, patting Castiel’s shoulder and looking at Michael again. “Well, sometimes we switch, you know. You gotta learn to vary your pleasures, after all.”

Castiel keeps his eyes firmly on his plate. So, Dean is pissed. Cas doesn’t know if it’s at him, or at Michael, but he’s out to get someone tonight, and Castiel knows that when he gets that way, there’s nothing that can stop him. And Castiel doesn’t want to make things worse between them. He’s just going to let him have his go at Michael.

He lifts his head, watching the scene. At least, if something happens, he’d rather try to enjoy it.

Anna is slowly eating, looking at her vegetables like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. But she’s the only one. Everyone else is looking between Michael and Dean.

“Interesting,” Michael answers like he’s very pleased, “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

Dean starts cutting his steak in little pieces, and looks up. “You mean the type to take things up my ass? Yeah, me neither, but your brother is very convincing,” he beams, stuffing his mouth with a big piece of meat.

And, really, it’s not like this evening can get any worse, Cas thinks. So why not join the fun?

“I didn’t have to convince you very hard, though, Darling,” he adds.

The surprise on Dean’s face is clear, but he doesn’t seem angry, at least.  He turns to Michael. “Your brother’s very skilled with his hands,” he hums through his mouthful of steak.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate topic, guys,” Gabriel finally says.

He looks uncomfortable, slightly red in the face. Castiel almost feels guilty about that. Almost.

“Oh, right, sorry,” Dean answers. He gives Gabriel an inquiring look, “what about your job search? How’s that going?”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s confirmed as he only smirks when Grace lets her fork fall on her plate, staring at Gabriel like Dean just told her he killed someone. “You’re unemployed?”

Gabriel eyes Dean like he wants to kill him, before turning to his mother, pleading, “It’s fine, Mom. Just a misunderstanding at work, but they’re taking me back.”

“Oh,” Anna pipes up, suddenly happy to be back on a safe subject, or so she thinks, “what a relief!”

“Thanks,” Gabriel says, looking slightly guilty.

“Hm, that sucks,” Dean sighs. They all turn to him. “I mean, your boss fucked you over more than once, and you still want to go running back to that asshole?”

It could be an innocent comment, something Castiel invented to explain the situation to Dean, and so Gabriel just opens his mouth like he wants to say something, closes it, and finally huffs. “No, it’s fine, really. We’re good.”

“So, you’re not tired of sucking his dick?”

“I think Gabriel can make his own choices,” Michael intervenes, defensively.

Dean shrugs, still smirking. “I think he should stop bending over for this dick, is all.”

Castiel sees Gabriel’s eyes dart between Dean and Michael, then stop on Castiel. He sees the slightly sheepish expression on Cas’s face, and his eyes widen. He understands, suddenly, that _Dean knows_.

He turns white. In the blink of an eye he’s up, chair tumbling behind him as slams both hands on the table. “It’s none of your business,” he spits at Dean through greeted teeth.

Anna seems to lose it just then. Her smile grows, making her look half-crazy. “Who wants some dessert,” she exclaims cheerfully.

Dean glances toward Castiel, but stays silent. Nobody talks for a while, as Gabriel seems to be having a small seizure right in front of their eyes.

“Great idea, Dear,” Grace finally lets out, voice small.

Anna nods and disappears into the kitchen.

-_-_-_-_-

“Jesus Christ, Cas, how long are we gonna stay here and pretend everything’s good,” Dean whispers urgently at him after this whole nightmare of a dinner is done and they’re standing outside on the balcony, waiting for Michael to bring some cigars. “Can’t we just go, already?”

“We’ll just…” Castiel sighs, looking around, “smoke his damn cigars and then leave, okay?”

Dean rolls his eyes angrily, “half an hour, and that’s it. We clear?”

Castiel nods.

“Good,” Dean says, stepping back inside, “I need to hit the john, be right back.”

Cas doesn’t comment, and instead chooses to lean over the balcony railing, looking down at the city. He can hear his mother and Anna laughing in the living room. They’re not going to come out. Cigars are for men. He almost wants to snort at Michael’s old-fashioned notions. But he doesn’t. The truth is, he’s slightly scared for Anna’s future. Not that he’ll do anything about it, though.

“Cassie,” Comes Michael’s voice from behind him.

He turns around, watching his brother close the balcony doors behind him. The curtains are half-closed. Nobody can see them from inside, and, suddenly, Castiel’s heart is beating in his throat.

“I apologize for Dean’s behavior,” he starts, trying to smile.

But Michael is here, in his space, and now he’s stuck between his brother and the railing.

“Cut the nonsense, Cassie,” Michael growls, low. Castiel can feel his breath on his lips. “We both know what’s happening here. So I’m going to warn you, and I’ll only do it this once.”

Castiel swallows.

Michael leans closer, if it’s even possible, the tip of his nose touching Castiel’s. He takes Castiel’s tie in a tight grip, pulling until Cas can barely breathe. “You can’t understand what Gabie and I have. And you can’t stop it either. So the next time you stumble upon something…” he draws closer, cheek to cheek with Castiel, and whispers in his ear, “you best forget about it. Or else I’ll make sure you’re a part of the secret, too.” He pulls away, barely, just enough so that Cas can see his face, see his tongue dart out to lick his lips. “I’m sure you’d paint a beautiful picture, Gabriel and you…”

“Get off him!”

Michael steps back, still holding onto Cas’s tie, and looks behind him. Dean is there, in the doorway, looking furious and ready to kill somebody. Gabriel is following, stealing glances in the direction of the living room to be sure Anna and their mother aren’t going to see what’s happening.

“Don’t worry, Dean-o, I won’t break your toy,” Michael sneers. “We’re just having a little conversation.”

“Come here, Cas, we’re leaving,” Dean says, cold, eyes never leaving Michael.

Scoffing, Michael releases Castiel’s tie, hands held up in the air in mock surrender. Castiel joins Dean as fast as he can, and Dean pulls him into the living Room.

Anna and Grace look up at them, interrupting their discussion.

Anna stands. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah,” Castiel lets out a nervous chuckle. “I’m afraid I just had too much wine.”

“Gets him a little bit woozy,” Dean confirms.

“I should head home, too,” Grace says, pushing herself off the couch. “Let you two lovebird go on trying with the baby-making,” she smiles at Michael, who followed with Gabriel in tow.

“Mother,” Michael admonishes, faking embarrassment. He shakes his head. “Anna, could you be a dear and drive her home? Gabriel and I have some things we need to discuss.” He squeezes Gabriel’s shoulder again, letting his hand rest there.

He sees the way Castiel and Dean eye it, and his smile grows predatory.

“Of course,” Anna answers. “I’ll walk you all to the door.”

Leaving Gabriel here, alone with Michael, it’s harder than Castiel would’ve thought, but he’s so high on adrenaline after what happened that he doesn’t even notice they’re out and in the car until Dean asks him if he’s okay enough to drive. Nodding tersely, he turns on the ignition, and leaves.

Once they reach Dean’s hotel, at Dean’s insistence that he wasn’t ready for them to sleep in the same bed just yet, Castiel starts realizing what Michael threatened him with. On impulse, he unclicks his seatbelt, bolting from the car, and take a very much needed breath of air. His eyes start watering. He’s shaking badly and he can do nothing but look at the sky, hoping the tears won’t spill.

Dean is at his side in a matter of seconds.

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean whispers in his ear, taking him in his arms, “you’re fine, he won’t get you.” He kisses Castiel’s forehead, reassuring. “I won’t let him.”

Castiel nods. He has to believe it.

-_-_-_-_-

Castiel took the time to circle the block a few times before coming back to Gabriel’s. After taking a long drive to calm his nerves, that is. He doesn’t want to see his brother, and face his accusations. But, after two hours, he knows it’s getting late, and he really needs to go check on Gabriel.

So he goes back to his brother’s place.

The apartment is dark, as it usually is. It’s also silent, which means either Gabriel isn’t home yet, or he’s having a self-pity session all alone in his room. Whichever it is, it’s not good for Castiel.

Better check his room, then.

Gabriel is there, in front of his computer, watching a black screen as if he’d seen a ghost. Castiel makes sure he’s as noisy as he can be, so as not to sneak up on his brother.

“Gabriel…” he tries as he comes close. “Are you okay?”

“ ‘M fine,” Gabriel answers weakly.

He’s stroking his collarbone. When Castiel leans over to see why, he realizes there are bruises there, in the shape of fingers. “Did Michael hurt you?”

Gabriel looks up at him like he just saw him, and frowns. “No… No, it’s fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before…”

“Then what is it,” Castiel asks, because he can see how out of it Gabriel seems.

Gabriel looks back at the screen. “He sent me another email. After I left.” And he opens his emails, clicking on the last one, with Michael’s name on it.

From: Michael Milton (miltonm@adler.com)  
Subject: Personal  
Attached: 25600064.mp4

If I get another word from Castiel about this, it’ll be him in your place.

Michael Milton  
Attorney at Law  
Adler & Partners  
(212) 555-3411  
[miltonm@adler.com](mailto:miltonm@adler.com)

“Gabriel,” Castiel hesitates as he sees there’s another video attached, “you don’t have to show m—“

“Yes, I DO!!”

He can’t answer this. He doesn’t know what to do. Gabriel looks like he’s two seconds away from clawing his own eyes out.

“I can’t let him… I can’t…” Gabriel starts, voice shaking. “If I show you then maybe you’ll understand that y-you need to… to walk away from this. Please.”

He stares at Castiel, for a long time, before Castiel finally gives a curt nod, “Okay.”

Gabriel turns to his computer again, frantic now, and the video starts before Castiel is ready. His body turns cold, and he’s frozen in place, unable to look away.

“Hold still,” Michael admonishes in the video.

The screen is black. Castiel can’t see anything.

“Sorry,” Gabriel’s voice says through the speakers. “I’m just… not comfortable.”

The black mass on screen moves away from the camera, revealing Michael in his birthday suit. He bends down, grinning at it.

“You’ll forget about it pretty soon, don’t worry.”

Gabriel is on a bed, in his underwear. He’s wearing a blindfold, and his arms are tied to the bedposts. Behind him is a window, but the blinds are drawn. Castiel can only see that’s it’s night outside.

“When was this,” Castiel asks, hearing his own voice like someone else was speaking.

“Earlier this evening,” Gabriel whispers. “Right after you left.”

“Jesus…”

On the screen, Michael walks to the bed, and kneels between Gabriel’s thighs. Gabriel starts squirming. “Mike…”

“Shhh.”

“I don’t like it,” Gabriel tries again, pulling on the rope holding his arms above his head.

“I don’t care,” Michael answers, distracted.

He removes Gabriel’s underwear in one swift move, throwing them on the floor. Gabriel’s breath hitches when he runs his knuckles on his cock.

Michael hums. “You know, I really don’t appreciate being taken for a fool…”

“I said I was sorry! I didn’t know he told De—Ah!”

Michael has his balls in a tight grip, and he smirks. “You shouldn’t have told him in the first place…”

“Michael,” Gabriel gasps, pleading.

“But you forgot to tell Cassie,” Michael goes on, letting go and reaching for something on the bed. A bottle of lube. “How much you like it.” He coats a finger in it, and brings it down, rubbing at Gabriel’s hole. “How desperate you were for them to leave so I could do this.”

“Please,” Gabriel moans.

Michael ignores him. “You forgot to tell him that it’s the reason why you came back.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupts. He’s shaking, heart pumping blood so hard up his head and in his ears that it’s almost deafening. “I can’t watch this.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer, too focused on what’s happening on screen.

“You don’t want him to know you’re a slut,” Michael keeps saying as he pushes his finger in.

In the video, Gabriel whines, pulling on his restraints and pushing down on it.

“You’re my slut.”

“F-fuck,” Gabriel let’s out. Castiel suspects Michael added a second finger, but he can’t be sure. Things are a bit too dark to make out the details, thank God for small mercies.

Michael grins, triumphantly. “Say it,” he quickens the pace he set with his fingers. “Say you’re my slut.”

Gabriel has his head thrown back, mouth open in ecstasy as he lets out grunts and pants of pleasure. “I’m, I’m your slut, I’m your—Please, Michael!”

Castiel can’t take any more of this. He slams the laptop shut. His breathing sounds loud even to his own ears.  “I don’t—I don’t understand,” he whispers. It feels as if, if he speaks aloud, something bad is going to happen. “Why are you showing this to me?”

“So you’ll see me for what I am,” Gabriel answers in the same tone. “So you’ll stop trying to help. Because it won’t work.”

Castiel crouches in front of his brother, face contorting as he tries not to cry. “It will. If you fight him.”

“No,” Gabriel shakes his head. “You don’t get it. I l-love it.” He closes his eyes. “I love him.”

“Gabriel…”

“Please, Cas, just let it go.”

Speechless, Castiel stays frozen where he is, unable to move for a couple of seconds. Watching Michael destroy Gabriel’s self-esteem to the point where Gabriel actually believes he can’t live without him? It’s just impossible. Castiel has to do something. He has to.

And he knows exactly how to proceed.

-_-_-_-_-

Meditation, Castiel discovered, is a great occupation when he needs to just sit and wait patiently. He didn’t think he was capable of sitting quietly for hours before Dean one day yelled at him to _take a friggin’ yoga class or something, you tense Asshole!_ And he actually followed Dean’s advice.

But it’s hard to reach a state of emptiness and relaxation when there’s someone trying to speak through a ball gag right next to you.

Castiel opens one eye and stares at Michael, trying to convey his annoyance through a single look. It doesn’t work. Michael, from where he’s standing, suspended by his wrists, toes barely reaching the floor, doesn’t seem to get that the more he fidgets, the more it’ll hurt. _Shame_ , Castiel thinks. But it’s not like he cares about his brother’s personal comfort in this moment.

“Fuck, Cas…”

Dean steps into the warehouse, cautiously, looking around like he can’t believe his eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel answers, opening his other eye and stretching his arms above his head.

“Jesus,” Dean lets out as he walks closer, taking in the scene, “they’re your _brothers_!”

Sighing, Castiel looks toward Gabriel, who’s tied to a chair, gagged as well, and facing Michael. “I’m not going to do anything to Gabriel,” he answers, “I just thought he should be here.”

Michael’s answer is an undignified muffled scream. He’s staring at Dean, eyes wide with desperation like Dean is going to do something to help him.

Dean runs a hand over his mouth instead, thinking. When he finally looks up at Cas, he sighs. “The FBI is on our ass, Cas.”

“They won’t find us,” Castiel answers, casually. “This place is so remote it’s not even on a map.”

“And not on any friggin’ GPS either, I know,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Castiel stands, and looks him in the eyes, head tilting on the side inquisitively. “I’m glad you… came.”

Dean huffs. “Of course I came!” He looks around, and Castiel sees he’s trying to make sense of it all. “Christ, Cas, you’re losing it! First Lisa and now this?”

“It’s for the best.”

“No, it’s really not,” Dean shoots back, “Cas, you’ve always been so careful. And now look at you,” he waves his arms around, eyes landing on Gabriel, “you’re doing everything you said we should never do!”

Castiel steps closer to Dean. The urge to touch him is getting hard to resist. “I made sure no one saw me. We’re far away from everyone. I left my phone at Gabriel’s, if you did the same—“

“That’s not the point,” Dean cut him off. “Cas,” he cups Castiel’s face, forcing him to look into his eyes. “Michael’s your brother. If you do this… people will know. Don’t get me wrong, guy’s a bastard, he deserves it,” he licks his lips, “but… you don’t. You don’t deserve getting caught because of him.”

“I won’t,” Castiel insists.

With a frustrated grunt, Dean lets go of him, stepping back. He waves a hand at Gabriel, “What about him, huh? What happens when Michael’s dead!”

Michael lets out a huff of distress.

Dean nods toward Gabriel, “And he goes ratting to the police? What then?”

When Castiel turns to his brother, Gabriel’s eyebrows furrow, pleading. Calmly, he turns back to Dean. “He won’t,” Castiel answers.

“Of course he will,” Dean grouses. He looks away and around the abandoned building. He seems to be thinking, looking for his words as he eyes Castiel’s brothers again, before coming back to him. “Look at you. You’ve been killing people since you were fifteen, and you love it.”

Castiel eyes his brothers, gauging their reactions. They look properly terrified, now. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he says, looking back at Dean.

“They’ve been fucking since they’re…” Dean throws his hands in the air, “Christ, I don’t even know. Since they can remember, probably. Which brother do you think Gabriel will choose, huh? The one he’s in love with, or you?”

“Michael’s been torturing him for years!”

“And he keeps going back,” Dean snaps. “He could find a job, he could do something with his life, the thing is, he doesn’t, because he doesn’t _want_ to!”

Castiel considers what Dean is saying, but he still doesn’t see where it’s going. There’s no way he can turn back, now.

“Listen,” Dean sighs, “you have to make a choice.”

“I’m not choosing between them or you, Dean, don’t make me—“

“That’s not what I’m saying! Will you just listen?”

Castiel avoids Dean’s eyes, focusing on Michael instead. His brother is thrashing against his restraints, as if it will do him any good. “Go on,” Castiel tells Dean.

“You can’t kill one without the other,” Dean starts, raising a hand when Castiel’s head snaps back into his direction, ready to interrupt, “you can’t. And I think you know it. So either you kill both, or you kill neither.”

Gabriel lets out a whine, but Castiel barely notices. “I can’t kill Gabriel.”

“You can,” Dean insists, “and you’ll have to if you wanna off Michael.” He shifts on his feet. “Look, I’m not ready to get caught because you’re suddenly feeling merciful, Cas. And I won’t let you get caught, either.”

There’s a plethora of emotions fighting inside Castiel at the words, because Dean is right. One look at Gabriel tells him what he needs to know. Even if he swears he won’t say anything, once Castiel lets him go, he will. He’s not like Michael. He’s not like Cas. He’s just lost, and scared, and the first chance he gets, he’ll tell on Castiel.

Fighting the tears, Castiel shakes his head, closing his eyes briefly before staring at Dean again. “I miss you, Dean.” His voice wavers.

“I miss you too, Cas,” Dean answers, softly. His features smooths, and he comes close again, until their bodies are just a few inches apart.

Castiel lets out a small, wet laugh, “I’m sorry.”

“ ‘Bout what?”

“About Lisa,” Castiel says, voice small, “about me. About the way I am. I’m sorry you got mixed up in all of it.”

Green eyes stare at him, thoughtful.

God, Dean is beautiful. Castiel traces the path of his freckles with his eyes, content to just let Dean speak. He doesn’t want to make a decision just yet.

“No, Cas,” Dean finally says. His fingers graze Castiel’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m the one who pushed you away but… things at work were tough, and we weren’t doing anything, and I just… I was bored. I lost it. I’m sorry.” He looks away, briefly, then down at Cas’s lips, “I mean, I’m still angry… and, you probably are, too. But we both made mistakes.”

Castiel can smell Dean’s skin, that particular combination of sweat and leather. He can feel his breath on his face, can see every single nuance of Dean’s irises.

“We did,” he breathes against Dean’s face. Their lips are so close, all it would take would be a little push. “Dean,” he says, like it means something, like it’s something other than a name.

Dean’s answer is a hum as he leans forward, until they can finally kiss. It’s chaste, at first, until, impatient, Castiel forces Dean’s mouth open with his tongue. Just a lick or two, and Dean’s licking back, their tongues sliding against each other, lips sealed together. It’s electric. It makes goose bumps rise on Castiel’s skin. God, how he’s missed this! Michael is making a lot of noise, now, but Castiel barely hears him.

He pulls away slightly when he feels he’s about to faint from lack of air, and gently lays his forehead against Dean’s, eyes closing on their own. “I can’t kill Gabriel,” he whispers. The tears are back, threatening to spill.

“I’ll help,” Dean whispers back. “It’s okay, Cas.” He licks his way into Castiel’s mouth again, until Michael is too loud to ignore.

Cas steps away from Dean, cold eyes landing on his oldest brother. “Shut the fuck up!!”

“Yeah, dude,” Dean tells Michael, stepping closer and eyeing him with interest, “can’t you see we were having a moment, here?”

Michael frowns, clearly angry, and tries to spit something at Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean smirks at him, “we get it. You’re important. People are looking for you. Blah blah blah. Hey, Cas,” he looks at Castiel, eyes twinkling with anticipation. Castiel’s insides twist pleasantly at the sight. “Can I take care of him? Please? I have some ideas you might like!”

“We can share,” Castiel answers.

He’s too preoccupied to truly get into the mood, right now. He needs to speak to Gabriel. Dean seems to sense it, and he turns to Michael again. “Okay, Dickwad, I’m gonna tell you what I wanna do to you, how ‘bout that?”

Cas lets him talk Michael’s ears off, and slowly walks to Gabriel. Gabriel looks up at him, pleading, tears spilling freely on his face. Snot is gathering under his nose, down into the gag in his mouth. He’s pathetic. Castiel’s heart flutters. “Gabe,” he says, low. He crouches in front of him, hesitantly pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiping his brother’s nose. “I’m… sorry. For what I’m about to do. I shouldn’t have involved you in this.” If only Castiel didn’t take this to heart, and didn’t bring Gabriel here… but it’s done, now. No going back. Is that what it’s like to feel guilty? “I thought you could handle it, but Dean is right.”

Gabriel thrashes at that, eyes opening in fear. He tries to say something, but Castiel shushes him. “Please… this is hard enough, don’t make it worse…” He sighs. “I’ll make it quick. You won’t feel a thing.” Gabriel sobs in answer. “I don’t have a choice. I thought that if I did this for you, you’d be grateful… I didn’t think you’d… react this way.”

Gabriel shakes his head. Castiel can see he’s trying to stop crying. He’s talking again. _I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be good, Cassie, please!_

“You went back to Michael,” Castiel answers. “Willingly. I can’t trust you.”

Gabriel’s eyes water again. Tears spill, slowly falling along his cheeks. He tries to say something. Annoyed, Castiel wrinkles his nose, and reaches for the gag, pulling it down.

“Cassie,” Gabriel exhales. “P-please, you, can-can’t do this. We’re family!”

“It doesn’t change the fact that what you and Michael are doing is wrong.”

Gabriel laughs, wetly, before he remembers himself and fear overcomes him again, “You k-kill people!”

“I do,” Castiel answers, nodding. “And as you’re about to see, I’m good at it. I don’t feel as ambivalent about it as you do about your activities.”

“Please…”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

“I don’t wanna die…”

Castiel sighs again. He stares at his brother, seeing his pain, feeling it. He hates the feeling. “Nobody ever does,” he finally says, before putting the gag back in Gabriel’s mouth.

He stands up. Dean perks up at the sight.

It’s going to be a long night.


	10. Curtain Call

##  **Curtain Call**

 

**A forensic technician puking his guts out is a rare sight.**

And it’s one Victor doesn’t appreciate seeing on a crime scene. It just means it’s going to be messy, and it’s going to take forever to examine entirely. Which means the results will be delayed, and the case will take more time to solve. As if he needed this.

He knows who’s doing this, and today’s murder is only a confirmation. But there’s no clues, nothing left behind, not even a single hair on the scenes, and it’s pissing him off. Pam hates it when he’s pissed.

He takes a breath before exiting his car, and walks straight to his partner, who’s looking at the vomiting tech guy like she wants to spank him and send him back to criminal study.

“Please, tell me we have something this time,” he says as he gets closer.

Pam smiles at him, hands on her hips. “And good morning to you, too, Victor.” He glares. She sighs. “Nothing in the physical evidence so far. But, and you’re going to like this, guess who the vics are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “There’s more than one?”

“Two,” she answers, wriggling her fingers for emphasis, “Gabriel and Michael Milton. Name rings a bell?”

And she’s outright smirking now, because she knows what that means as well as he does. “Castiel Milton’s brothers?”

“Yup,” She pops the ‘p’, “And little Castiel is nowhere to be seen. Neither is his boy toy.”

That’s not enough. “We can’t do anything about it…”

“No,” she concedes, “but that means they’re getting careless. And sloppy.” She points a thumb at the warehouse behind her. “You should go have a look.”

“Do I really want to?”

Her only answer is to make a face. Great. He knows these guys, he knows their M.O. So, he has a vague idea of what he’ll find inside.

“Okay,” he breathes, “let’s get this over with…”

He walks to the door, taking long, decisive strides, even if he feels everything but confident right now. Pam holds the door open for him, a smile on her face. She wriggles her eyebrows before slipping inside.

With a sigh, he follows.

What strikes him first is the smell. A morning under the sun inside a sealed warehouse was all it took for the bodies to start rotting, apparently. Victor covers his mouth, disgusted. “Jesus…”

Pam is already next to the bodies. She turns to him. “You coming or what?”

He huffs. Might as well get to it, then. When he’s finally standing in front of the body of Michael Milton, he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

 “Holy fucking shit! They cut his…”

“His balls, yeah,” Pam answers. She’s chewing on her usual extra mint gum, to ward off the smell. “And his peen. Sloppy job, at that. I bet it was Dean.”

Victor closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Do I need to see the other side of him?”

Pam hums. “He’s been raped. Repeatedly. With something big.” She nudges him before adding, “Guess what we found in his rectum.”

“I’d rather not…”

“His dick, Vic. They stuffed his ass with his own cock.”

This is just crazy. Not that Victor hasn’t seen some crazy shit in his fifteen years working for the Bureau, but this takes the cake. Opening his eyes, he looks up at Michael Milton’s body, taking in the greyish hue of his skin underneath the blood. “He’s been dead longer than the other one.”

“Yeah,” Pam turns to the other Milton. Gabriel. “This one had his neck broken. A clean death. Just before our two love birds left, I bet.”

Tech people are surrounding them, so they can’t really talk freely, but the only thing Victor feels like doing is cursing until the nausea goes away. He looks around, eyes wandering over the different evidence. “That’s…” he frowns, “that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he kill his brothers?”

“Why do psychos do anything,” Pam answers. She takes her pack of gum out of her pocket, popping another one into her mouth. “He doesn’t have to have a reason.”

Victor gives her an angry look, “You know they always do.”

She huffs. “I’m just letting you hang. They left us a lil’ something.” She walks to a techie who’s sitting at a small table, a computer open in front of her. “Can you show us the vid?”

The techie nods. Victor leans over her, curious. The video is bad quality. Victor can’t really see anything.

_“You know, I really don’t appreciate being taken for a fool…”_ A voice says.

Victor can barely make out two people on a bed. Two men. One of them is tied up.

_“I said I was sorry! I didn’t know he told De—Ah!”_

_“You shouldn’t have told him in the first place…”_

_“Michael,”_ one of them gasps.

Victor can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Fuck me, is that…”

“Shut up and watch,” Pam answers.

_“But you forgot to tell Cassie,”_ Michael says. Victor recognizes him, now. The other one is Gabriel _“How much you like it. How desperate you were for them to leave so I could do this.”_

_“Please,”_ Gabriel moans.

Michael ignores him. _“You forgot to tell him that it’s the reason why you came back. You don’t want him to know you’re a slut.”_

“Fucking Christ,” Victor whispers.

_“You’re my slut.”_

_“F-fuck.”_

Michael grins, triumphantly. _“Say it,”_ he’s moving his arms in between Gabriel’s legs. In between his brother’s legs. _“Say you’re my slut.”_

Gabriel throws his head back, panting, _“I’m, I’m your slut, I’m your—Please, Michael! Fuck me! I’m ready, please!”_

_“I don’t think you deserve it.”_

Victor can’t take any more of this. “Jesus,” he breathes. “Turn that shit off,” he orders the girl.

She nods, pausing the video, face beet red.

“So, you can pretty much guess what happened,” Pam says, straightening up. “Castiel finds out his brothers are fucking each other. He gets angry. Especially at Michael, who seems to be the dominant one. He gets them here, take his revenge on Mikey. And then, just for good measure, kills Gabriel, too.”

They’re lacking time, in this. Time, and evidence. But this, with the right judge, it could be something.

“Do you think we can get a warrant with that vid?”

“Against them both? I don’t know,” Pam says, with a shrug. “But this,” she waves at the computer, “could work against Castiel, at least.”

Victor nods. “Enough for me.”

“Awesome,” Pam grins. “Let’s go find a judge!”


	11. PƋrt Ø: ĐǝɑƗЋ

##  **PƋrt Ø: ĐǝɑƗЋ**

 

**“Shh, Cas, it’s okay,” Dean breathes in Castiel’s ear.**

Castiel can’t stop the tears. They’ve been flowing freely since they left Gabriel’s apartment, a couple of hours before dawn.

Now it’s almost midnight, and they stopped at a motel to rest for a little while.

Dean’s hands are everywhere, holding Cas, keeping him sheltered from the world. It feels like his heart is heavy with pain, and regrets, and all he wants is to go back to that fateful day when he discovered his brothers were fucking.

If given the chance, he’s rather not know. But he does, and he did what he had to do. But never before did he feel so great a pain. Gabriel was his only family. Dean is, too, in a way, but Gabriel was the one who raised Castiel.

But he couldn’t live. He couldn’t, and Castiel knows that.

Dean is still here, though. It’s the only thing that matters, now.

“I c—can’t,” he sobs, fisting the back of Dean’s shirt until he can’t feel his knuckles anymore, “I can’t stop. Dean, I can’t—“

“It’s fine,” Dean soothes, “it’ll go away after a while, I promise.”

“H-how do you know?”

Dean clears his throat. His hand keeps running on Castiel’s back. “You won’t like the answer.”

“Tell me.”

Shifting, Dean huffs, pausing for a moment, before answering, “I felt the same way when you,” he stops, sighs, “when you killed Lisa.”

There’s no describing what it feels like to hear this for Castiel. It’s worse than a stab to the heart. The tears flow again, another wave of sadness overtaking him. “I’m… so sorry, Dean, I’m s-sorry…”

“It’s fine, Cas,” Dean kisses the top of his head.

“How? How is it fine?” Cas can’t comprehend it. It hurts _so much._ No wonder Dean was angry. “I made you feel this way, how can you be so calm?”

Dean is silent for a long minute. After a while, Castiel thinks he won’t answer. But, finally, he opens his mouth. “I convinced you to kill Gabriel,” he whispers, voice emotionless. “Now, we’re even.”

-_-_-_-_-

The sun is high in the sky, and a sort of heavy stupor fell on the small town they stop in. Dean hates the heat, but he’d rather be out in the sun than back in the motel room with Cas, in the dark, moping about something that they can do nothing about anymore.

Cas is not angry, surprisingly. After what Dean told him, he just laid there, eyes dry, clinging to Dean as if Dean was his last chance to feel human. Which is probably true. They’re on the run, now. Dean can’t believe he let that happen, but his desire for revenge was so strong he can’t really regret it. Not even now.

All he needs now is a fucking beer.

Fortunately for him, there’s a gas station not far away from the motel they’re staying at. A quick run there, go in, get the beer, pay for the beer, go out, it should be no problem. Except when he’s standing in front of the counter, ready to pay for his six pack, when a newspaper catches his eyes. That’s definitely a sketch of his face, and one of Cas.

Shit.

“There you go,” the cashier, a sixteen year old jackass with so many piercings Dean wonders how he can still recognize himself in the mirror, tells him as he hands him his change.

Dean’s lucky that this guy is the one handling the store, today. Because the teen sits back when he’s done with him, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t notice there’s a wanted guy in his store.

Dean doesn’t give him time to notice. He bails.

-_-_-_-_-

“Get up! We’re leaving!”

Dean is frantic, almost vibrating out of his skin. And Cas? Cas is still lying in bed. He cocks his head to the side as he pushes himself up on his elbow, like Dean just spoke Chinese.

“What happened?”

“They got us,” Dean says, as he pushes the six pack into his duffel, “we need to leave. Now.”

Slowly, Cas rises up, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How?”

“I don’t know. Our faces are in the papers. Won’t be too long until they end up on TV, too.”

Huffing, Castiel looks down. He doesn’t move.

“Cas!!”

“I’m so tired, Dean…”

As if Dean had time for this bullshit. “Come on! Get up,” he orders, trying to pull Cas up by his arm. “We need to _go_!”

Cas snatches his arm away, violently. “I c-can’t, Dean, I can’t do it anymore.”

Here it goes again, the tears, the fucking whining. “I swear to God, Cas, I’ll drive a fucking syringe into your neck if I have to. The cops are going to find us!”

Dean wishes he didn’t feel his heart constrict at the sight of Cas being so miserable. He wishes he didn’t love him so Goddamn much. Because as much as he loves Cas, the hates he bears for him is almost equal in size. He’s always been annoyed, slightly, at Cas’s sense of possession, at how jealous he could become. But after Lisa, it was never the same between them. He wishes he didn’t feel a damn thing.

Squatting between Castiel’s knees, he cups his face. “What is it? What happened?” Cas sniffles. “Cas?”

“Nothing,” Castiel shakes his head. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“What if this is it,” Castiel breathes, looking up at Dean with haunted eyes. “What if… Michael, G-Gabriel, what if it was what I was destined to do? What now?”

Wiping the sweat of his palm on his knees, Dean squeezes Cas’s cheek. “I… I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head, “Cas! Snap out of it!”

“I figured you wouldn’t,” Cas whispers.

He stands. That’s all Dean needs to know, for now. He’ll figure this shit out later.

-_-_-_-_-_-

“I can’t go to prison,” Castiel says, absent-mindedly as he stares out the window of Dean’s car.

They’ve been on the road for a couple of hours. He hasn’t spoken a word since they left the motel. “You won’t,” Dean says. “We won’t. Fuck, if we have to move to Australia we will! No way they’ll get us!”

“No,” Castiel agrees. He sounds so tired. “No way.”

-_-_-_-_-

Twelve hours later, they’re settling on another crappy bed, in another crappy motel. The linen smells like mold, but at least the shower has hot water and a decent pressure. Cas hasn’t opened his mouth in a while. Dean is getting worried.

Until, finally, Cas talks. “I can’t go to prison,” he repeats.

He’s pale, sweaty, fingers clenching and unclenching in an endless rhythm. He’s looking at a random spot, on the other side of the room. He sounds tired.

Dean sighs, “I know, Cas.”

Fuck! He’s exhausted. He doesn’t need this. He just wants to curl around Cas and sleep. Or smother Cas with a pillow until he fucking stops behaving like a zombie.

“No, you don’t,” Cas answers, finally turning to him. “I can’t. I… think I know what I have to do.”

He looks borderline manic, now. Dean is so fucking lost. “You’re going to tell me, I bet.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, Cas,” Dean breathes out, exasperated. “You’re tired. I’m tired. We should sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“You don’t understand,” Cas says, urgency creeping into his tone.

“No, I don’t, because you’re not making any fucking sense!!”

Castiel blinks at him, slowly. He tilts his head. “Dean,” he says, leaning toward him, crawling close until their noses are touching. “Do you trust me?”

 _He’s scary_ , Dean thinks. He’s terrifying, eyes insistent, crazy, even. Dean nods, because that’s what he does. He reassures Cas, he holds his hands through the little moments in life where Cas can do nothing but explode all over Dean.

Cas closes the gap between them, lips soft and dry moving against his own. “I missed you,” he whispers. Another kiss. Dean is paralyzed. “So much.”

“I know, me too,” Dean huffs against his mouth.

This seems to satisfy Cas, and he pulls away, sitting on his calves as he runs a hand through his hair. “I need you to promise me something,” he says, staring into Dean’s eyes.

He doesn’t let go. Dean swallows around the uncomfortable tightness in his throat, “Yeah. Whatever you need, Cas.”

“We need to die.” The gravity of his sentence takes a while to settle into Dean’s brain.

“W-what?”

“If they catch us,” Cas insists. “We have to die. It’s the only way.”

Dean is left gaping, unable to let out a word. Cas is serious, he can see that. He made a decision. It’s up to Dean to follow, now.

“Cas…” Dean hesitates.

His eyes roam over Castiel’s face. He sees distress, and desperation, and all sorts of things that Castiel never shows. Not once in all the time they’ve known each other.

Dean decides it’s better to deflect. He plunges forward, tongue lapping at Cas’s mouth. He feels feverish. It’s been long enough that Cas accepts it, rolling them over until he’s lying flat on Dean. Clothes gets discarded.

A good enough distraction for now. Until Dean thinks of something else.

-_-_-_-_-

When Dean wakes up, it’s to the feeling of Castiel slowly running his hand on Dean’s chest, tracing random patterns on his naked skin.

It took time for sleep to take him the night before. He kept thinking about what Cas said, over and over, until he was too exhausted to grasp a single thought. But now, he’s wide awake, and there’s definitely some thinking happening again.

The thing is, if Dean forgets about the crazy look in Cas’s eyes, he has to admit that it makes sense. What would they do, if the FBI arrested them? They’d be sent to different jails. And, God, their parents! Not Castiel’s, his mother is a huge bitch, and he doesn’t care much about Anna, but when he thinks about his own mom and dad, he can’t help the feeling of sickness that insinuates itself into his bones. And Sam? Jesus! What would Sam think?

Dean can’t stand the thought of seeing Sam’s reaction to what they did. He just can’t.

“Dean?”

Looking down, Dean smiles at Cas. “Hey…”

Castiel smiles back, stretching languidly, neck arching like a beautiful cat. He presses a kiss to Dean’s chest. “I love you,” he breathes.

Dean pulls him by the back of his neck, until he can plunge his tongue into Cas’s mouth. They don’t talk for a while, instead making out like horny teenagers. When his lips start to hurt, Dean pulls back, breathless.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he gently whispers between kisses. Cas hums. “About us… dying. If things go, go south.”

This stops Cas, who was nibbling at Dean’s lower lips. He pushes back a little, so they can look at each other. “And?”

The fact that he looks infinitely less stressed but is still on board with the idea cements Dean in his conviction. It’s the right thing to do, if push comes to shove. Even if Dean is convinced that they won’t get there. He won’t let things go there. What’s a little promise if he’s sure nothing will happen?

“I promise, Cas. I won’t let them take us.”

Cas’s smile as an answer is gentle, almost shy. “Thank you,” he says.

As a recompense, Dean supposes, he kisses his way down Dean’s body.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Their faces are on TV. Or, to be more precise, a blurry picture of Dean and a sketch of Cas are flickering on the crappy TV screen of their motel room, while the voice of a journalist explains how dangerous they are.

“ _The FBI asks that you do not try to apprehend the suspects yourself_ ,” the lady keeps going, as their pictures disappear and she’s in front of the cameras again.

Dean stops listening. “Cas, we need to leave.”

“They have roadblocks all around the country,” Castiel answers.

He’s so fucking calm, Dean has to be jumpy for the both of them. “Who fucking cares? We go to Canada, take a plane from there. Or, I don’t know, Mexico could work, too!”

“We’d never make it,” is all Cas says. He’s intently starring at the screen.

“Then what?!”

 “You know what.”

Die, yeah, Dean knows. It seemed like a good idea a few hours before, but now, as it’s staring right into Dean’s face? Not so much. “No. We’ll find something.”

Slowly, with an eyebrow raised, Castiel turns his blue gaze toward him. He doesn’t say a word. But his expression says everything. Dean holds his eyes for as long as he can, until he has to look away, uncomfortable.

“I need some air,” he grunts, bolting up.

He doesn’t need to stay cooped up here with Cas. He’ll just lose his mind if he does.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The plastic of the payphone receiver is hot in his hand. Even though it’s the middle of the afternoon, Dean hopes his mom will be home. He needs to talk to her.

He takes a look around as the phone rings. This town is small, unassuming. Charming, in its own way. It has small shops, lots of old people walking around. It also has an old industrial complex, filled with crappy repair shops, thrift stores, and other tacky motels. Which is good for them. Maybe when they leave they could find a B&B, though, something cute. Something the FBI wouldn’t assume would be their type.

Dean is kind of a romantic, sue him. If death is hanging over his head, he wants something good before he has to put the light out. And if his idea of a romantic evening before his last hurrah is having Cas fuck him until he can’t walk, it’s none of anybody’s business. Nobody’ll be here to judge, anyway.

“ _Hello?_ ”

He jerks his attention back to the phone pressed against his ear. Shit. He doesn’t remember what he wanted to say.

“ _Hello,_ ” his mother repeats, voice slightly trembling.

“Mom. Hey,” he breathes.

“ _My God! Dean? Dean_ ,” and now she’s out of breath. Panicking. She must have watched the news then. “ _Did you—Dean, is that true what they—_ “

“Don’t say it,” he interrupts, closing his eyes. “Please. Mom, it’s not—I don’t wanna talk about it, Okay? I want to hear your voice. Just, hear your voice.”

“ _Has Castiel hurt you? Did he, did—he made you do this, didn’t he?_ ”

“No! Mom, Christ’s sake…”

“ _Dean, you, you need to come home, okay? Come home, Honey, it’s fine_.” Dean rolls his eyes, he can’t help it. “ _The police said if you came home they’d be lenient_.”

“You talked to the police?!”

“ _I…_ ”

“Fuck’s sake, Mom!!”

She tries to answer, he hears a faint ‘sorry’, before the phone changes hands. Dean is a millisecond away from hanging up when his father’s gruff voice comes through the phone. “ _What’s happening, Son? Where are you?”_

“I wanna talk to Mom,” Dean sighs.

He doesn’t have time for this. Jesus Christ! Why is it so complicated?

“ _You’re going to answer me, Dean_ ,” his father growls, “ _where are you? And what’s this all about?_ ”

Dean thinks about Cas, in this moment, about how he’ll probably be pissed as all Hell when he learns that Dean called his family. And, if Dean’s honest, he’s pissed with himself. He knew it was going to be like this.

He rubs his eyes, tiredly looking around. He’s so on edge he feels like he’s going to burst any second now. “What’s what all about, Dad?”

“ _They say you murdered people! Castiel’s brothers!”_

Dean huffs a small, humorless laugh. “I won’t talk about it, Dad. Put Mom on the phone.”

_“Dean!!”_

Sam. Dean’s heart leaps in his throat.

_“No, Sam, you know what we said—“_

“ _Dean,”_ Sam’s voice comes, clear through the phone after a few second of shuffling. “ _What the hell, man?_ ”

“Sammy,” Dean croaks. His throat is dry and it’s getting hard to breath. “You can’t understand, okay? Nobody can understand—“

“ _Shut up, there’s no time for this_ ,” Sam blurts. “ _They’re here, they’re listening to you, you need to g--”_

Something’s happening on the other end of the line. Sam cries out, yelling _Let me go!_ While Dean’s mother seems to be crying. Someone else is talking rapidly.

“ _Dean._ ” His mom again, voice wavering.

“I love you, Mom,” is all he thinks to say before he hangs up, abruptly.

With shaky hands, he wipes the sweat off his brow, as he leans against the phone booth wall. He’s fucked. He doomed himself, and he doomed Cas by calling his family. They need to leave. Now.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed when Dean barges in. He looks calm, collected. The TV is off, and the curtains are drawn. The eerie silence, the strangeness of the scene stops Dean dead in his tracks.

“They’re coming,” Dean whispers urgently when he recovers.

He doesn’t waste time. He almost runs to his duffel, grabbing all of his things, and some of Cas’s. He doesn’t even try to sort them, just stuffs them in the bag.

“It’s too late,” Cas just answers.

“The Hell it is, come on!”

Instead of answering, Cas lifts the remote and turns on the TV.

“… _the biggest manhunt seen in a decade_ ,” a lady reporter is saying, standing in front of Dean’s childhood home. “ _Local authorities refuse to comment on the matter_ …”

Dean stares, and stares, the feeling of hollowness that’s been slowly taking over the place of his heart, expanding until he can barely breathe. “That’s… that’s my house.”

“They’re coming, like you said,” Cas answers.

Dean shakes his head, and resumes what he was doing. “Shut up!”

“ _BOLOs and all points bulletins have been issued by the FBI and local police for the two suspects, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester_ ,” the journalist goes on. “ _Airports, trains and bus stations have been issued_ …”

Cas puts the TV on mute, and Dean looks up at him. He’s staring back at Dean, strangely calm, composed, with a regretful little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He stands up. “It’s over.”

“No,” Dean says. He won’t believe it. He can’t.

But it comes out weak, like he can’t even convince himself. Cas keeps smiling sadly and reaches for him, urging him to come closer. Patiently, he waits, until Dean can function again, can get past the choking sense of despair that creeps over him.

Finally, Dean takes a step forward.

He almost falls into Cas, legs shaking like he weighs a ton. “Cas,” he whispers. The supplicant tone of his voice makes him cringe, but he can’t help it.

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas answers as he looks up at him, arms wrapping tightly around Dean’s middle, “it’s going to be fine, okay?”

Dean shakes his head, “No.”

“We’re okay, we’re together.”

“No,” Dean repeats.

He closes his eyes. If he doesn’t see what’s happening, if he doesn’t acknowledge it, then maybe he can hope it’ll go away. Maybe he’ll wake up.

“It won’t hurt, I promise.”

A sob tears itself from Dean’s chest at the words. “I don’t wanna die, Cas, please…”

Cas sighs, “No one ever does.” His hand is stroking Dean’s cheek, gently. Dean opens his eyes. “But it has to happen eventually,” Cas goes on.

The words ring final to Dean’s ear. He’s heard them before. He knows what they mean.

Dean sags further against Cas. He’s shaking, hands digging desperately into Cas’s back, and it’s only the thought of appearing weak that prevents him from crying. What if the cops barge in and find him like this?

Cas shushes him, slowly stroking his hair, until Dean calms down enough that he can pull back, dropping a small kiss on Castiel’s lips.

“Here,” Cas says, bending over until he can reach the pack of beer on the floor and gets one out from the already torn box.

He pops the cap with his hand, which has Dean shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought you said it wasn’t the proper way to open a beer,” he sniffs, half-laughing.

Cas smiles at him, shyly. “It’s not that important, anymore.”

Swallowing proves to be difficult after this, but Dean manages. He nods as he takes a gulp. “I guess you’re right…”

A shaky laugh leaves his mouth. Cas takes the bottle from him, frowning in concern. Waiting.

“I’m,” Dean starts, then stops himself. He was going to say ‘ _fine_ ’, but it’s so far from the truth he can’t even think the word. “I’m not okay, Cas. I’m not…”

 _Jesus_! He’s shaking even harder, whole body vibrating with stress. Cas hands him the beer again, then, almost as an afterthought, changes his mind, takes a sip himself, and gives it back. “You will be.”

“I can’t--”

“Dean.”

Sighing, shoulder sagging, Dean shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, hands tightening on the bottle he took without even thinking about it. “I just… this is so big, Cas.” Drinking usually helps, and so he brings the beer to his mouth, because otherwise he knows he’s going to cry, or scream, just lose it completely and he certainly can’t do that.

“Hey! Hey, slow, Dean,” Cas admonishes, reaching for the bottle again when he sees Dean’s going to down it in one go, “slowly. Okay?”

Turns out the beer was the only thing holding Dean together, because as soon as it’s out of his hand and on the floor, at the foot of the bed where Cas put it down delicately after taking another gulp, tears start pouring. “Fuck!”

“It’s fine,” Cas soothes, pulling him toward the bed, “you need time to adjust.”

“I’m crying l-like a fucking baby!”

Cas sighs, sitting down. Dean resists the pull on his arms. “Everyone reacts differently, you know that.”

Dean answers with another sob, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“And it’s not because your reaction is tears that it makes you weak.”

“You’re not crying…”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Cas answers, gently.

“There has to be something else we could do, there’s…” Dean shakes his head, opening his eyes again, giving Cas a pleading look, “something. Anything.” _Please_ is implied.

With the same sad smile still perfectly in place, Castiel huffs out a long breath, thumbs gently running on Dean’s hands where they’re linked with his own. “You need to let go, Dean. It’s the only way.”

At first, Dean’s initial reaction is to shake his head ‘no’, to deny that Cas is right. But, however long and hard Dean thinks about it, he can’t see any proof that he’s wrong. And so, after a few, horribly long seconds of panic, a gush of desperation seems to run through him. He exhales his last hope, the movement of his head coming to a stop.

Cas keeps staring at him, insistent but gentle all at once, until Dean finally accepts.

His knees buckle until he has to straddle Cas’s lap, holding himself by Cas’s shoulders to keep from falling. Tears slide down his cheeks, almost burning his skin with the weight of his defeat. It tastes bitter in his mouth, the giving up.

“Just don’t think about it,” Cas says.

Dean snorts, derisively. “ _Don’t think about it_ ,” he repeats, voice dripping with a weird mix of bitterness and fear, and another tear runs down his cheek.

“I’ll help,” Cas insists.

His hands slide under Dean’s t-shirt.

Dean’s heart throbs inside his chest, hard, heavy. It hurts. He would give anything to forget about it. Maybe filling his last hours with something sweet would help, something to make up for all the crap. “Kiss me.”

Castiel hums, wiping the tears with his thumbs, and bringing Dean’s face close to his own. The kiss is bitter, too, violent, all teeth and hard tongues.

“We’ll be fine,” Cas breathes against his mouth.

His hand is on Dean’s neck, pulling at his hair to hold him back.

“We’re going to Hell,” Dean whispers back.

Cas smiles, “Then we’ll be treated like Kings, there. Right? After everything we did, they’ll have the Presidential Suite ready for us.”

Dean knows that after everything, after the bullshit Cas’s mom spewed on him all these years, and after finding out about his father, Cas doesn’t believe in God. He doesn’t believe in anything, Heaven, or Hell included. It could be fucking Narnia for all he knows, to him it’s all the same. But hearing this coming out of his mouth is strangely reassuring.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “yeah, they will.”

And because there’s nothing else he can do, really, he steals another kiss from Cas, deepening it. He wants to forget, wants Cas to make him forget with hot presses of tongue and clever fingers. He rubs his crotch against Cas’s middle, signaling his intention. He’s not hard, not yet. How could he be? But he knows that if he focuses, and if Cas gives it to him good, then he will be soon.

“We had a good life,” Cas goes on. “I’m not disappointed.”

“Shut up,” Dean pleads, shaking his head. He leans over, capturing Cas’s lower lip between his teeth. “Please,” his lips land on the corner of Cas’s mouth, “just…” The tightness in his throat prevents him from finishing his sentence, for fear he’ll start crying and won’t ever stop.

His thoughts are a jumble of _this can’t be happening_ and _we’ll find something_ and _I don’t wanna die_ , and he just wants his brain to shut down, already. “Just kiss me.”

“Of course,” answers Cas as he does just that.

He peppers Dean’s skin with small kisses. First, his lips, then the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Dean hums with each one, closing his eyes to savor the sensations. Goose bumps rise on his skin, running along his neck, and Cas follows their path with his mouth. Slowly, he pushes Dean’s shirt off his shoulders, pulling it away, fingers grazing the bare skin of Dean’s arms. Dean shivers, and seeks Cas’s mouth again, blindly.

Their mouths slide against each other with an ease that comes with practiced familiarity. Cas’s hands run down Dean’s back and settles there, pulling Dean’s body closer. There’s no space between them anymore, and the kiss turns from lazy and indulgent to heated.

Out of breath, Castiel pulls away, eyes full of need. Licking his lips, he nods toward the space on the bed behind him. Dean steals another kiss before sliding down his lap and crawling toward the headboard. When he turns around and lies down, Cas is standing at the foot of the bed, panting. 

He watches Dean, quietly, for just a second, but it gives Dean some time to think. The anxiety at the idea of death has time to grow inside his heart. His body seems to be sinking into the mattress, as if the world was trying to swallow him, and he seeks Cas’s eyes, waiting for some sort of reassurance.

Cas tilts his head to the side, and, after a beat, gets rid of his shirt before crawling up Dean’s body. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” he breathes against Dean’s mouth, “we’re okay. Just relax.”

“I don’t—”

“Shhh,” Cas interrupts, kissing his mouth again. “Stop thinking. Just stop.”

His hands trail low on Dean’s abdomen, under Dean’s t-shirt, the warmth of them seeping into Dean’s skin.

“Okay,” Dean answers.

Closing his eyes seems like the best course of action, for now. That way he can focus on feeling what Cas is doing to him, and not overthink things.

Cas’s mouth is on Dean’s cheek, hands pushing his shirt up, everything is warm and quiet. Dean breathes deeply, taking in the scent of Cas above him. His heart seems to slow down a fraction.

“Let’s get you naked,” Castiel breathes against his ear. It sends Dean’s heart into overdrive again, but for a completely different reason.

Cas helps Dean discard his shirt, but he lets him take care of his jeans all by himself, sitting back on his heels as he watches Dean work.

The cool, recycled air of the motel room makes goosebumps rise on Dean’s skin. His nipples get hard, and he takes a breath, willing his heart to stop jackhammering inside his chest. _Everything’s going to be fine. Stop thinking. Stop thinking about it_.

“C’mon,” he whispers, throwing his jeans on the side of the bed.

Cas just quirks an eyebrow in that commanding way of his, like he’s considering what Dean’s asking, like he thinks Dean’s misbehaving but maybe he’ll give it to him anyway. Dean loves that look on him.

“Please,” he adds, just for good measure.

That’s Castiel’s cue, and he takes it, lying down on Dean with a graceful sway of his hips. Now Dean’s almost naked, his underwear the only thing still in the way. Cas is fully clothed. Dean likes the power imbalance it creates, likes how vulnerable but safe it makes him feel.

He’s going to miss this. All of it.

He doesn’t want to die. He wants all of this and more, and he wants to keep going, and going and going until his joints ache and his hair turns gray. Tears prickle at his eyes once again, so he pulls Cas down into a searing kiss.

Cas goes with it, but gently pushes Dean away after a second, wiping off the tear that slips down with his thumb. He doesn’t try to reassure Dean, not anymore. Instead, he kisses the path the tear took, down to Dean’s neck, stopping there to suck a bruise into the skin.

Everything is very quiet. It’s unusual, for them, to be so silent during sex, to trade the moans and whines and screams for gentle intakes of breath.

Dean would like it, if not for the significance of it. The air is tainted with something heavy. Sadness. Fear. Or maybe it’s all in Dean’s head. Maybe Cas is just giving him the space he needs to grieve his life. He, himself, looks at peace. Almost contented. Dean envies it.

He pushes the thought away as Cas kisses his way down, nibbling at his collarbone, until he reaches a nipple and starts sucking on it. Dean’s back bows without his consent and he exhales, finally letting the electric jolts of pleasure take over his mind.

Cas’s hands slide down his body, the tips of his fingers playing with the hem of Dean’s underwear as his tongue darts out to taste Dean’s skin. His movements are slow, calculated. He’s in total control. Usually, Dean likes it. But now, as they’re counting the minutes to their deaths? It won’t do. Dean wants Cas shaking and moaning and writhing above him like a shameless whore. 

“Cas,” he hisses when Cas’s teeth close on his right nipple, “I wan’ you to fuck my mouth.”

Cas’s reaction is immediate. He stops, huffing, and rests his forehead on Dean’s chest, hips making an aborted movement in empty space.

“Please,” Dean adds.

Castiel grunts and surges up, lips crashing into Dean’s. He works at his belt as he does. Dean can’t help but smile into the kiss. _That’s more like it_. He gently turns them around, making sure that all the while they’re still linked by their mouths.

There’s a pressing need to say something rising inside Dean, but he pushes it down. Now’s not the time. Everything he does, every little nip of teeth, press of lips feels sacred. Every moan and hum like a prayer. A hope, that it won’t hurt, that it’ll be fast, that they’ll be okay. That maybe they won’t need to do this the way Cas planned.

“Fuck,” he almost spits, head dropping against Castiel’s collarbone.

The prickling wetness is back, surging up his throat, threatening to spill behind his eyelids. Cas shushes him, pulling Dean’s face up until he can kiss his cheeks, his eyebrows, his nose. Their lips meet again, slower this time. Cas is trying to soothe Dean as best as he can without words. Which Dean appreciates, truly. But it won’t do. He needs to stop thinking about death. All he wants to do is fuck.

And, besides, they don’t have much time left.

So he shakes his head, and kisses his way down Cas’s body, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. Cas settles back against his pillow, humming. This is all Dean needs. _This_ , Castiel, and his perfect body, hot under his hands and lips, to keep his mind busy. He pulls Cas’s jeans down his legs, dragging his underwear with it, and Cas shimmies a bit to help him. It’s cute. Dean laughs wetly. In answer, Cas smiles, brightly, and drags the tips of his fingers from Dean’s chin to his cheek.

Smiling back, Dean drops a kiss at the juncture of Castiel’s hip. He gives a lick there, tasting the skin. A thrill goes through him at the scent. Cas smells musky, mostly because they’ve been on the road for a while before this, but that’s how Dean likes him best. Castiel the control freak-slash-serial killer? Dean likes him. But Cas, the completely normal guy he can be, sometimes? The one who sweats, and bitches about bills, and likes organic food even though he knows Dean will never eat all that green shit but who keeps buying it anyway? Dean loves _him_. 

The scent of him is even stronger as Dean goes down, burying his nose in Cas.  

He’s about to take him in his mouth when the laptop comes to life.

“ _Orders are to wait for the SWAT team. I repeat, orders are to wait for the SWAT team. They should be here in a couple of hours. Any sign of change inside the room? Over_.”

They both turn their head in its direction, listening.

Dean cocks an eyebrow at Cas. “What’s that?”

“Police scanner,” Cas shrugs. “I picked up their frequency while you were out.”

“ _No, Sir. Not that we can see. We’re still in position, waiting for orders. Over_.”

When they look back at each other, Dean sees Castiel’s eyebrows rising. He licks his lips, and pulls Dean up his body.

“Two hours,” Dean says, trying for nonchalant. Cas’s eyes roam over his face, like he’s trying to save every little detail in his mind. “Better make the most of them,” Dean finishes, right before Cas pulls him into a kiss with a grunt.

Rolling off the bed, Dean tugs Cas by the hand. “C’mon,” he whispers.

They tumble into the shower together, trading urgent kisses under the spray of lukewarm water. When Dean tries to fall to his knees to give Cas one last sample of his blowjob skills, Cas stops him. Instead, he pulls Dean into a tight embrace, soapy hands drawing patterns on his back.

Their mouths meet again. Cas presses Dean against the tiles, hands reaching behind him.

The feeling of urgency is back. There’s not much time left.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Dean is furious. He would kill for a burger just about now. Even death row inmates have the right to a last meal. So he gets out, against Cas’s advice, with the firm intention to get something greasy to devour.

He sees the FBI agents who came to interrogate them after Lisa’s death as he’s walking out of their room. He’s in the middle of the parking lot, with no protection, nothing to hide his face, and nothing to defend himself. He left his gun and his knives in the room.

Ducking behind a car, he takes a peek above the hood to get a better view of the office. The door is open, probably to let in some air. The cops, the big, black guy and the brunette lady, are showing pictures to the old guy behind the desk. The guy nods, and that’s enough for Dean. He hides behind the car again, cursing himself.

They must’ve been on their tail, all this time. They must’ve… been connected to the guys in his hometown, probably. Shit! How did they get here so fast?

He’s lost, and sweaty, and he needs to get to Cas before something happens.

He runs back to their room, barging in, startling Cas who’s sitting in front of the TV, munching on some protein bar. “What is it?”

Dean’s about to crawl out of his skin. “They’re here!”

He crawls up the bed, and pulls Cas into a hug.

“It’s okay,” Cas says, just like he’s been saying since this morning. “We’ll be okay.”

Dean wants to believe him. He’s really trying. But fear is stronger than reason. He takes the protein bar out of Cas’s hand, putting it aside. All he can think to do now is kiss Cas, silently asking him for one last round. Cas hands him the beer he was nursing, nodding. Dean drinks it all, and throws it on the floor. It doesn’t break. Just bounces a few times on the carpeted floor, leaving the stale smell of hops in its stead.

Dean tunes out all the thoughts running through his head, because otherwise, he feels like he might throw up. He just wants to fuck Cas. One last time. And maybe another after that. And what if the cops barge in and find them buck naked, Dean balls-deep inside of Cas, huh? He doesn’t care.

He kinda wishes they would.

Might as well give a good show, just in case.

He strips off his shirt, giving Cas his best sexy smirk. The lube is still sitting on the nightstand. He grabs it, throwing it at Cas, “Your turn.”

-_-_-_-_-_-

Cas puts on his shirt, and, with a sigh, sits on the bed next to Dean.

And Dean? Dean’s numb.

He’s holding a half empty bottle of beer, wondering how his life got to this point. How, at twenty-five, he’s about to die, because his boyfriend likes to slice people up.

Shaking his head, he looks down.

Who is he kidding, really? He likes slicing people up, too. So, he guesses he had it coming.

Night has fallen, and the police scanner has been active for half an hour, giving a very ominous background to their last hour on this earth. “How do we…” he falters. But he can’t finish his sentence.

Cas stands up, silently, going for his duffle. Dean doesn’t want to see what he’s doing. He looks away instead, out the window. He can’t really see shit, because the curtains are drawn, but the pale moonlight is seeping through an opening. The motel’s digital alarm clock tells him it’s eleven thirty six.

A crackle of statics breaks through the silence, the speaker of Cas’s laptop so shitty it makes it sound like a gunshot.

“ _Backups are on their way. We’re ready for the assault. Over_.”

“ _Copy that. No movement coming from their room, over_.”

Sighing at that, Cas stands, coming back to Dean with two guns in his hands. When he sits back down, he hands Dean his own, the handle of it pearly white against the shitty red spread covering the bed.

Dean’s always been better with knives, but his dad made sure he and his brother knew how to shoot. This gun was a gift. It was his grandfather’s. Dean wonders what he would say if he could see him now and see what he was about to do with it.

“We aim at each other,” Cas says, startling Dean out of his thoughts. “I count to three, and we shoot.”

Dean grimaces at him. “It’s gonna be messy,” he croaks, his throat tight and dry.

“Messy, but effective,” Cas shrugs.

He looks scared, skin pale, almost green from fear. It’s reassuring to see Dean isn’t the only one who’s going to either shit his pants or puke his guts out. Or both.

They stare at each other for a while. Dean’s heart is pounding against his ribcage. There’s a slight ache in his temples, and he’s sweating, despite the cold air coming out of the AC. Cas seems to be gathering his thoughts, until a hard, steely look settles on his face.

The world starts to spin. This is it, then.

“Are you ready?”

Dean wants to scream. He wants to run, and he wants to tell Cas to go fuck himself. But he does none of that.  “Yeah,” he breathes. Fuck! He’s so fucking scared. “I… yeah.”

He stares at Castiel, anxiety making his whole body shake. He’s never been the chick in this relationship, so he’s not about to start now. There’s no way he’s going to cry right before the final big bang. No way.

To give himself some courage, he runs a hand through his hair before letting out a decisive breath. The beer is still in his hand. He discards it on the nightstand, and cocks his gun. “Ready.”

Nodding, Cas folds his legs under himself, facing Dean. He hesitates for a second, before reaching for the beer, bringing it to his lips with a sort of fiery resignation. He finishes it, one long gulp after the other. Dean’s impressed, and tries to smile at him, to make a joke. Nothing comes to mind.

It doesn’t seem important anyway. Cas ignores him, and cocks his own gun.

Far in the distance, the sound of police sirens can be heard. The red and blue light of the cars flash by the little opening in the curtains.

It’s time. Already.

Dean lets out a nervous laugh, and takes the same position Cas did. “They really brought out the whole cavalry…”

Castiel smiles at him, reassuring. “They won’t get us. We made a deal, and you promised, remember?”

“I know, Cas,” Dean huffs. His head’s spinning. He can’t look away from the blue of Cas’s eyes. He doesn’t want to. “I know.” With trembling hands, he lifts his gun to Cas’s temple. “Let’s do this, then.”

And then all he can to is close his eyes, take a breath, and hope for the best.

The barrel of Cas’s gun is cold against the side of Dean’s head. Dean has to look at him. It’s scary as shit, but he has to see. But the only thing he notices when he opens his eyes again is how badly his hand is shaking. He blinks a few times, trying to push back the tears that are threatening to spill.

What if something goes wrong? This whole gun thing is a bad idea, and he can’t help but say it. “How do we know it’ll work? What if I shoot a second before you and you die before you can…” he trails off. “I can’t do this without you…”

“It’ll work,” Cas answers, calmly. Sure.

Dean huffs a small laugh despite himself. “Pushy bastard.”

It’s all he can do now. Trying to make things look a little normal. Make a joke. Laugh. But Cas is so focused, there’s not a single crack in that serene mask of his. He leans over, until their forehead are touching. His other hand, the one not holding the gun, comes to rest on Dean’s neck.

“I love you.”

Dean’s next laugh is close to a sob. He sniffs. “I know.”

The scratching tires on pavement almost makes Dean jump. He breathes in through his nose, exhales. It’s time. It’s more than time. Game over.

“It’s time,” Cas says, echoing Dean’s thoughts.

Dean nods, stealing a small kiss. Tears finally fall. He lets them. This whole charade is so unlike him, anyway, that he could just as well grow a pair of boobs right about now, for all he cares. 

“See you on the other side,” Castiel breathes, reminding him how serious their situation is.

Dean nods again. It’s like he’s floating out of his body, anyway. Like his consciousness died, already. Castiel tightens the hold on his gun.

“One…”

Dean’s heart skips a beat. The back of his nose starts itching. He’s going to turn into a fucking fountain in a second if Cas doesn’t hurry the fuck up.

“Two…”

Men are yelling outside. Dogs are barking. Dean’s so fucking scared. It won’t work. It’ll hurt. He’s sure of it. His heart misses another beat, and this time it hurts. He feels so weak he thinks maybe he’s about to faint.

He can’t. He can’t do this.

“Three.”

“WAIT,” he exclaims at the same time, pulling away violently. “Wait! Cas, wait, please. Please. I can’t—“

He can’t breathe. Is this what it feels like to have a panic attack? He tries to pull on the hem of his t-shirt, but there’s a lump in his throat cutting off all his air.

“Can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t—“

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas reassures him, dropping his gun on the bed. He sounds out of breath, too. “It’s normal. Just take deep breaths, it’ll get easier. Deep breaths,” and he inhales, eyes boring into Dean’s, insistent.

So Dean does the same. He inhales. His lungs burn.

“I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” Cas encourages, scooting closer and cupping Dean’s face. “You’re fine. Breathe.”

Against all odds, Dean listens to him, and his breathing settles down. The noise outside is deafening. The cops are about to come in. They don’t have much time left.

Or maybe they do.

“Cas,” Dean lets out, eyes pleading. “Let’s… just stop, okay? Let the cops get us and we’ll find something. Sam is on our side. I called and he told me the police were on our ass. He’s smart, he’ll help, we’ll—“

He’s cut off by Cas’s lips on his own. He pulls away, frowning. “Cas!”

“It’s done, Dean,” Cas says, sighing. “We’re dead, already. You just have to stop fighting it.”

Dean searches his face for a sign that Cas has gone mad. That’s he’s gone religious or something, because what he’s saying doesn’t make sense. “No, Cas, we’re smart! You’re smart! And your mom’s rich now that Michael’s dead, right? If you ask maybe she’ll pay for a lawyer or something. We can get out of this, don’t you see?”

He’s getting angry, now. Why won’t Cas see that there’s a solution other than dying? He’s never been the suicidal type, so really, Dean doesn’t see why he can’t see straight on this one.

“You don’t understand, Dean,” Cas insists. “It’s done.”

Dean just huffs. “What are you talking about?”

Cas stares. Licks his lips. “I suspected you wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger,” he finally whispers, eyes darting away for a quarter of a second.

It tells Dean everything he needs to know. Slowly, it dawns on him that something’s not right. A violent wave of nausea overtakes him, and he has to take the time to breathe for a second before he can look at Cas again. “What did you do?”

With a sigh, Cas looks away.

Or, rather, Dean thinks he looks away at first, but his eyes are insistently fixed on something behind Dean. So Dean turns around.

At first, he doesn’t get it. With a frown, he tries to find something that would pop out, maybe, only to see the nightstand, the window. The curtains? He turns back to Cas, and Cas just nods. So Dean looks again. Nothing’s out of place. The headboard is a bit broken on the side, there, but it’s nothing they did themselves, the alarm clock is still working, there’s an empty bottle of beer next to it, a lamp, then the curtains, covering the bright lights of the police car outside.

Dean looks again. He doesn’t get it. Window, lamp, beer, alarm clock, bed—

He gasps when he understands.

The beer. It’s the beer.

Cas has been opening bottles for them all afternoon, sharing every single one of them. He _never_ does that. They never share their drinks. Ever.

Slowly, he turns back to Cas again. He’s pretty sure he can feel his blood leaving his face. “You didn’t…”

“It’s was the only way, Dean.”

“You poisoned me?”

“I poisoned _us_ ,” Cas corrects, almost pleading.

Dean huffs incredulously, putting a few inches between him and Cas. He can’t believe it. _He can’t believe it_. He’s dying.

His heart misses a few beats, the rhythm of it uneven, in a way that tells him it’s not just because he’s panicking. He looks up at Cas, letting the anxiety take over. He doesn’t give a shit if it shows. “Wh… what did you use? How is it…”

“You won’t feel much, I promise,” Cas soothes. He closes the gap between them. “Your heart will go into fibrillation, and you’ll have trouble breathing. Maybe some stomach pains and nausea but you’ll slip into a coma before it becomes too unbearable. It’ll be like going to sleep.”

“I, I… I don’t wanna go to sleep! I don’t…” Dean can’t calm down, now, his anger pushing his heartrate through the roof. “I don’t wanna die! Cas, I’m not ready, I’m fucking—I’m twenty-five, Dude! I can’t die now, I, I have, so much—“

“Dean,” Cas cuts through his rambling, eyes boring into him. “Calm down.”

“ _Calm down_? I can’t fucking calm down, you just fucking murdered me!”

A look of guilt quickly passes on Cas’s face, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he shrugs. “Yeah. I did. I can’t do this without you, Dean. I had to.”

“Shit,” Dean whispers.

He wants to pull away, and hug Cas at the same time. He doesn’t know how to feel, because there’s so much anger in him, but also so much fear that he can’t decide which one he should let out. Maybe both at the same time.

“I’m, I’m,” his own mouth decides for him, spewing the words almost against his will, “I’m scared,” he whispers, fists shooting up into Cas’s shirt. “I’m so fucking scared, Cas.”

“Me, too.” It slips out of Cas’s mouth softly, like a confession.

They hold onto each other for what seem like an eternity, and only a few seconds at the same time, forehead to forehead, until they can’t ignore the noises outside anymore. Until Dean isn’t sure if it’s night, or day. Until the only thing is can still think about is Cas.

After a while, though, Dean is dizzy, and he’s getting exhausted. All he wants to do is close his eyes, and go to sleep. Or throw up. And he knows very well what that means.

“I’m tired,” he finally lets out when he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“Then lay down.”

“I don’t wanna go to sleep.” His voice is shaking.

“I’ll be right here with you. Don’t worry.”

He nods. He has no idea if Cas is in the same state as he is, if he even saw him move his head. “Hold me,” he breathes, shifting until his head hit a pillow.

He tries to keep his eyes open, but all he can do is blink. Cas lays down beside him. He’s smiling. Dean wonders why he’s been so scared all this time. It seems like a lifetime ago that Cas told him they had to die. He’s too tired to be scared. All he wants to do is sleep. The world is spinning. He knows if he stops blinking now he’ll be gone.

It’s not a terrifying thought. It’s just a fact. He’s okay with it, now.

He reaches for Cas’s hands. “’Love ya,” he tries to smile.

Cas’s eyes are so very blue. Their color is all Dean can see in the near darkness, and through the haze that settles over his vision. His stomach growls, and it hurts a little. His limbs feel heavy. It’s like he’s high. Like he smoke a hundred blunts.

“I love you, too, Dean. Thanks for everything.”

Dean hums as an answer. “Guess s’time for a lil’ nap,” he slurs.

Cas’s smile is the last thing Dean sees before his eyelids decide to shut forever. He’s fine. And he loves Cas. And they’ll be together.

He’s fine, truly. He’s more than fine.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Dean stops breathing, a small, contented smile still on his lips. Cas’s vision blurs. His chest seems to rip itself open from the inside, and his face crumbles without his consent.

Dean is dead.

Castiel killed him. He killed the love of his life.

And now he’s left alone, heart disintegrating into little pieces. Shards of glass inside his ribcage. That’s what it feels like. He kept the façade for Dean, but now, without him, the doubts and the guilt assault him.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying, howling, really, until strong fists pound on the door. The sound of it echoes inside the room. Or maybe it’s in his head. He thinks he heard someone saying something, about the FBI. About how they should open the door.

Another sob tears itself out of his throat. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm down. The dizziness is getting worse, so he knows he’s almost there, but he wishes the poison would work faster. He doesn’t want them to come in and separate him from Dean before he dies. He can’t let them take Dean away from him in his last moment.

To reassure himself, he lifts Dean’s head with great care and positions it on his chest. And he holds him. He just holds him.

They won’t take Dean away from him. He won’t let them.

He ignores what the cops are saying outside, ignores their pounding on the door, ignores the dogs barking closer and closer to the window. What do they think? That he’s going to run out, now, of all times? It’s all background noises now, anyway. He’s not even sure they’re really here. Maybe he’s dreaming it all.

He huffs a small, wet laugh. “They’re so stupid,” He whispers into Dean’s ear. “I wonder how they even managed to find us.”

He’s not scared to die, but Dean was right. They’re so very young. They had so many things ahead of them. But he can’t regret anything they did. He loved every single second of their twisted life together.

“What a shame,” he breathes, again.

He doesn’t know if he’s speaking to Dean, or to himself. It almost feels like Dean’s going to answer, telling him the cops can go fuck themselves. That nobody’s as smart as Castiel is. Cas smiles at that, agreeing.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes. The arrhythmia of his heart is verging on painful, now, so he focuses on his breathing, and the feeling of Dean in his arms. He’s still warm, so it’s easy to pretend Dean’s just asleep.

The sounds around him fade. He thinks they broke the door open. It’s not even a conscious thought, he just knows. But that’s not even important. What’s important is that Dean is in his arms, and he’s about to join him.

He thinks about the first time he met Dean. He sees Dean’s smile. Feels the heat of that summer day on his skin.

This is what happiness is all about. This is what love feels like. He’s glad he’s known the feeling before he died.


	12. Exit Stage

**“We had them,” Pam growls, frustrated.** “We fucking had them and they had to go and ruin everything! Fuck!”

Victor sighs as he watches the crime scene technicians take pictures of Dean Winchester’s and Castiel Milton’s bodies. He gets it. He knows why Pam’s angry, because the same anger has been boiling inside him since he discovered the two men. So many years of work, for this? It’s like looking forward to Christmas morning, all year long, only to realize that you only got one present and it’s precisely what you didn’t want.

“Come on,” he tells her, pulling her away from the bed. “Not much we can do, now.”

Throwing one last angry look at Winchester and Milton, she shakes her head, and follows him outside. She paces around for a minute. Victor’s patient. He can wait until she calms down enough. They have a lot of paperwork to do, and a lot to wrap up with the local PD before they can head back to DC.

Maybe he’ll take her out tomorrow. There was this steakhouse she said she might like to try.

Finally, she lets out a breath, and reaches in her pocket, an air of defeat around her. She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her raincoat. Victor refrains from voicing his disapproval. If it helps her, he’ll let her have it. Just this once.

“I can’t believe it,” she says, cigarette between her lips. She pats her coat for a lighter. “Those assholes.”

“Nothing we could’ve done,” he answers, handing her a small box of matches with the logo of their hotel on it.

She takes them, cracks one, inhales the smoke violently. “We could’ve ordered the assault sooner,” she insists, blowing the smoke out. “I told you we should’ve ordered it sooner!”

Victor shakes his head. “You heard the coroner. They used poison. It probably took a while to set in, they would’ve died, anyway.”

“But we could’ve gotten a confession out of them first!”

“There’s no point talking about it,” Victor lets out.

He’s so tired. Pam looks like she want to say something, and Victor waits, but nothing comes out. They stand next to each other for a good while, until the cigarette is gone, smashed under the sole of her shoe.

“Vic,” she sighs, “they were so fucking young.”

He gives her a questioning look, and she holds his gaze, something like incredulity in her eyes.

“When I turned twenty-five, I didn’t even have a job yet. I was about to become an agent. And meet you a few months later. Can you imagine?” She looks away toward the door to the room, where their people are running around.

They’re pulling the bodies out, in body bags. Anonymous. Nobody would guess that inside those bags rested two serial killers.

“How can someone become…” she waves toward the bodies, “this?”

He huffs, following her gaze. “What I’m wondering is, how two people as twisted as them meet? Like, what are the chances?”

In his peripheral vision, Pam shrugs. “Bad luck, I guess.”

He lets out a guffaw of surprise. “That’s one way to put it,” he agrees.

The forensic assistants are pushing the bodies inside their truck. They close the door, and it feels like a part of Victor’s life is closing with it.

He can’t take his eyes off the truck. “Like you said. Bad luck.”

 

## 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Castiel doesn’t like other children. Even his brothers. Sometimes, Gabriel is okay. But today, he’s not playing with Castiel. There’s something more interesting happening outside. Someone new is moving into the house across the street.

Castiel is curious. There’s a kid. And the mom has a baby in her arms. The kid is sitting shyly on his porch, and he looks sad. Gabriel is slowly walking across the street, like he doesn’t want them to see he’s about to talk to them. The two adults enter the house with the baby.

From his view at the window, Castiel sees Gabriel smile widely in his direction, waving. Castiel pouts, and doesn’t move. With a shrug, Gabriel goes to the kid sitting on the porch. He talks to him, and talks to him, but the kid doesn’t react.

Gabriel gets bored very quickly, looks like, and he comes running back to the house. Castiel doesn’t have time to do anything. Gabriel is already on him, pulling him by the arm.

“Come on, Cassie! Let’s go play outside!”

Mother doesn’t like Castiel to go play outside on his own. She says that he’s only four and so, bad things could happen to him. But he’s smart. Mrs. Philips at school says he’s smarter than all the other kids. He can already read and write. He’s very clever. He’s sad that Mother doesn’t see it, or say anything about it. She’s always telling things to her friends about Michael, but never about Gabriel or him.

Sometimes, he thinks she doesn’t like him.

Reluctantly, he plays catch with Gabriel. But he’s not focused at all. He keeps looking across the street. The kid has left the porch and he’s now standing at the front of his lawn watching Castiel and Gabriel play.

Gabriel notices after a while and with a big smile, he pulls Castiel toward the kid.

“Wanna play with us?”

The kid frowns at Gabriel and looks at Castiel. “This is Cassie,” Gabriel says, proudly. “He’s my little brother. He’s four. How old are you?”

“It’s Castiel,” Castiel says, annoyed.

He doesn’t like when Gabriel calls him that. It sounds like a girl’s name.

“Cass – teel,” the kid says.

“No, Cass – tee – ell,” Castiel repeats. He hates when people don’t get his name right.

“Cass… Casstee—Cas!”

Castiel huffs, and crosses his arms across his chest.

Gabriel laughs, and nudges the kid. “So, what’s your name?”

“Dean.”

Castiel likes it. “Dee,” he says, just to annoy him.

The kid, Dean, smiles shyly. “Hi, Cas,” he says, and he sounds just like an adult. He’s all serious, and he reaches out with his hand, waiting.

Castiel looks down at it, perplexed.

“We have to shake hands,” Dean says. “Dad says it’s how men say ‘hello’.”

Castiel tilts his head to the side. If Dean’s dad says it, then it must be true. Castiel can’t know those things. He doesn’t have a dad. “Hello, Dean,” he answers, taking Dean’s hand.

Michael chooses this moment to come running out of the house. “Gabie!”

Gabriel’s smile disappears, and he slowly turns around. “Sorry, Mikey. But we were meeting our new neighbors.” He forces a smile on his face, and clasps Dean on the shoulder. “This is Dean.”

Michael looks surprised at first, but after a while, he smiles at Dean, in a way that Castiel doesn’t like. “Nice to meet you, Dean.” Then he looks at Gabriel, and he’s frowning, like Mother is frowning when she’s about to yell at Castiel, “I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour!”

“Sorry,” Gabriel mumbles.

He doesn’t have a choice. Michael takes him by the hand, and takes him away. It’s weird, sometimes, when Michael acts like a dad. But Castiel supposes it’s how every dad acts, so he doesn’t question it for too long.

He focuses all his attention on Dean once his brothers have disappeared inside the house. “Can we play?”

“Sure,” Dean beams.

But his mom is stepping out of their home, calling his name. “Dean, come inside! You said you’d help Dad arrange your room, remember?”

“But mom,” Dean whines, “I told Cas I’d play with him!”

“Remember what we said about promises.”

It sounds like she’s saying something bad, but she’s smiling. She looks nice. Castiel wishes his mom would look nice like that sometimes.

Dean sighs, loudly. “Yes, mom…”

She waves at Castiel, so Castiel waves back, a bit taken aback. “You can come and play all you want when we’re all set up,” she tells him.

Castiel only nods. When she steps back inside, he turns to Dean. “Your mom is very pretty,” he says.

Dean smiles proudly. “She’s the prettiest.”

Castiel can only agree. They stand awkwardly, face to face for a moment, before Dean sighs again. “I’m sorry, I need to go. Will you be here tomorrow?”

Of course he will be. School hasn’t started yet. He couldn’t wait to go, before, but now he thinks that, if Dean is staying, then he’ll have a great summer, and he probably won’t want it to end. “Yes,” he answers, instead of explaining everything.

Mother always told him to keep his thoughts to himself. It’s not proper to talk a stranger’s ears out.

“Cool! See you tomorrow then,” Dean says, extending his hand again.

Castiel takes it, and shakes. He figures it’s how men say ‘goodbye’.

Dean smiles, letting go of his hand.

Castiel watches him run up to his front door. He thinks maybe Dean could become his friend. When Dean is up on his porch, he turns around, like he’s hesitating about something, then comes right back to Castiel.

He kisses him on the cheek. Castiel is paralyzed.

“Mom says that’s how you say ‘goodbye’ to someone you like,” he whispers, like they’re sharing a big secret.

And he’s running away again, laughing. “Bye, Cas!”

Castiel waits until Dean is inside to reach up and lay a hand on his cheek, where Dean kissed him. He likes the feeling.

A real, happy smile forces its way onto his face. Dean is waving through the window. He’s laughing, and his mom comes behind him, laughing, too.

**Castiel waves back.** **“Goodbye, Dean.”**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, so much, if you read this little story until its end. I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please, don't hesitate to tell me what you thought!
> 
> You can also find me[ on tumblr!](http://disizletzi.tumblr.com/), if you want to chat, or just follow my work. 
> 
> Thanks again. Now go watch or read something cute. There's a good chance you'll need it ;)


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